Out There Saving the Galaxy
by mille libri
Summary: Leaving C-Sec to join a human's ship may just be the best decision Garrus Vakarian has ever made.
1. Humans

_Thank you for reading!_

* * *

Garrus Vakarian had never given much thought to humans. They were an increasing reality on the Citadel, to be sure, but there were very few of them in C-Sec, most of them in support positions—and Garrus tried to ensure that his path crossed that of C-Sec support as rarely as possible. The last thing he needed on any given day was any more red tape. As for outside of C-Sec … well, even when he wasn't officially on shift, he was still working cases, so there wasn't much to his life outside of C-Sec.

When he did think about humans, it was generally with little curiosity. They were vaguely asari-like in looks, but without the ridges that covered an asari's skull. Instead they had strange threads of various colors that hung down from their head. Garrus found the concept of hair mostly strange, all things considered—who wanted part of your body constantly drooping off your head?

It was the first thing he noticed about the one calling herself Shepard: She had no hair. Looking closely, you could see that her skull was covered with little dark sprouts, like a tiny black forest growing from the top of her head, but otherwise she was completely shaven. And tiny, just a little bit of a thing, really. But she carried herself like someone much taller, cutting through crowds as though she expected others to recognize her—and get out of her way. To Garrus's surprise, mostly they did.

The other human accompanying them on their task, a male named Kaidan, must have seen Garrus's confusion as they followed in Shepard's wake, and he let Shepard pull a little ahead of them so he could speak softly. "She's a hero in the Alliance. You've heard of the Skyllian Blitz?"

Garrus blinked. "That was her?"

"I know, you expect someone—bigger. But trust me, she can handle herself."

"I'm sure she can," Garrus responded, more to placate the human than because he believed it. Someone that small? How did she even hold a weapon? Although she had done fairly well in the Med Clinic, he reminded himself. Some of the best shooting he'd seen in a long time. He wouldn't mind going up against her in a range sometime, see how she stacked up. Garrus was usually on top of the leaderboard in the annual C-Sec shooting competitions.

Kaidan accepted his response at face value, and they continued following Shepard.

As they did so, Garrus's respect for her grew. She obviously was aware of her stature as a potential drawback in speaking with people, but she used it well, knowing when to keep her voice soft and respectful and seem like someone who needed assistance and when to be louder and more assertive. She made the big krogan Wrex back off, staring him down with her brown eyes, so large in her delicately constructed face. There was a lot of determination behind those eyes, Garrus was coming to understand, and that made a surprising amount of difference. He remembered hearing about her now. The Skyllian Blitz, and after it Torfan, had been quite a testing ground for the humans, and this Shepard, then fairly green, had made some tough decisions unflinchingly at a time when tough decisions needed to be made.

And she was going to do something about Saren. First among all those Garrus had spoken to, she believed what he told her and took seriously the threat that a rogue Spectre working with the geth represented to the galaxy. Just maybe the Shepard who had taken charge on Torfan would be able to track Saren down.

When she was made a Spectre, given her own ship to command and the charge to go after Saren, Garrus decided not to let her go without him. This was his project, one he had clung to despite all the attempts of his superiors to get him to drop it. He wasn't about to let some human sail off into space on his mission, not without him along to be there when she brought Saren to bay.

He caught up to her as she strode down the walkway next to the lake—she kept a fast pace, especially for the Citadel, but Garrus's long legs matched her easily. "You'll need a team."

"I know it. And I've got no time to recruit one." She left the words hanging in the air.

"So? What about it?"

"You asking to come aboard, Garrus?"

"Yes, I am, Commander."

Without breaking stride, she looked up at him, her brown eyes studying his face. "You going to have a problem taking orders from a human?"

"Only if I disagree with them."

The brown eyes blinked, once, registering the reply, then she said again, "You going to have a problem taking orders from a human?"

Garrus took a beat to consider that. The choice was there, laid out as plainly as if she had drawn him a diagram. He would have to follow orders whether he agreed with them or not. That had never been his strong suit, as any of his former superiors could have told her. But he wanted Saren, wanted to nail him as badly as he had anyone since that damned Dr. Saleon had disappeared right out from under his mandibles. And if this was the price … He gave brief consideration to promising to follow orders and keeping his intention to go rogue if needed in reserve, but he had the uneasy sense that Shepard would have seen right through that. At last he nodded. "No problem, Commander."

He had half-expected her to question him further, but after another sharp look at his face she nodded crisply. "Welcome aboard, then, Garrus. Glad to have you."

"I'll get my gear and meet you on the ship."

"1650 sharp."

"Aye, aye."

He stopped by the C-Sec offices to turn in his resignation—a resignation his superior tried to look like he was sorry to be accepting, which he completely failed to manage—and to retrieve his gear from his locker.

A couple of fellow C-Sec officers were changing in the locker room when he came in. Clearly they had heard, because their conversation all but ceased as he pushed open the door.

Garrus nodded to them. "Laedrus, Medrin."

"Is it true?"

"What? That I'm leaving C-Sec to join Commander Shepard's crew? It is."

"You're going to be serving under a human?" Medrin laughed. "Does she know you don't take orders?"

"If she's going after Saren, which she says she is, I'll take hers."

"Wait." Laedrus got to his feet, coming toward Garrus. He was a big guy, and he made himself bigger, puffing out his chest, as he got in Garrus's face. "You're joining forces with a human to go after a turian? One of your own people?" His tone left no doubt as to what he thought about that decision.

Garrus put his half-filled bag down, straightening to look Laedrus in the eye. "I'm joining forces with a Spectre to go after a criminal. Saren's dirty, and he's only going to get more dangerous."

Laedrus opened his mouth.

"I'd think twice before you call me any names, Laedrus. Remember, I don't work for C-Sec any more. I don't have any regs to break, and nothing to lose."

"You think Shepard won't throw you in the brig?"

"She might, although I doubt it. But it would be worth it."

Laedrus took a moment, then backed away—slowly, and with a swagger, like he'd meant no harm all along. "Well, don't come running back if your human Spectre turns out not to have what it takes."

"Wouldn't dream of it. And don't think you can climb aboard with us when we come back with Saren's head in a jar."

Laedrus and Medrin both laughed at that, and Garrus offered a faint chuckle to join them, letting them think he had been kidding. Whether Shepard could actually succeed in tracking down Saren, much less take him down completely, or make the decision to kill him rather than bring him in, remained to be seen, but at least he would be out there, flying through space, making a difference, instead of stuck here watching his life go by and helpless to do anything to change it. Who knows, maybe when this was all over, he'd re-apply for Spectre status of his own.

"You heard she recruited a quarian, didn't you?" Medrin asked.

"Better keep your gear locked down. You know how quarians are. Oh, yeah, that reminds me—she's got Wrex, too. Good luck with that." Laedrus laughed unpleasantly. "Forget crawling back here begging for your job back—the krogan'll take you all out two days out into space. He's probably been paid to."

"At least we're getting him off the station. Hasn't C-Sec been trying to get rid of him for months? Never managed. Now here's Shepard, and she's done your job for you," Garrus pointed out. "And so quickly, too."

"Weren't you in charge of getting rid of Wrex, Garrus?"

"Nope. That was Drellius."

"Oh, yeah. Wrex put him in the hospital."

Garrus nodded. "Better to have a krogan on your side than against you."

"A krogan's only on your side until someone else pays him better to be on theirs." Medrin looked genuinely concerned. "Watch your back."

"Oh, I will."

Garrus finished emptying out his locker, tossing the last spare clip in on top. "Well, boys, watch out for pickpockets. I'll be out there saving the galaxy."

"Saving the galaxy. Listen to him!" Laedrus shook his head. "Come on, Medrin. Time for our shift to start. Let's go do some real work."

"Yeah. So long, Garrus."

"So long." Garrus shouldered his bag and left the locker room. He strode across C-Sec to the elevator and punched the button that would take him up to the docking bay, where the rest of his gear had already been delivered. When the elevator doors slid closed behind him he let out a long breath, feeling more free already, and he hadn't even left the Citadel yet.

When the doors opened again at the docking bay she was standing there waiting for him, her arms folded across her chest and her foot tapping. She smiled when she saw him, letting her arms fall to her sides. "I was sure you were going to be late. Now I owe Kaidan forty push-ups."

"Maybe next time you won't bet against me."

"Maybe I won't. You ready to get out there and find Saren?"

"Yes, ma'am."

He followed her onto the ship without a backward glance.


	2. The Old Story

_Thank you for reading!_

* * *

Garrus bent over the disassembled pieces of the Kovalyov, searching for the small telltale flaw in the metal that would explain its timing issue. He was focusing so sharply on the gun that he didn't hear Shepard come up behind him. It was iffy whether he would have heard her anyway—she moved lightly even in armor. In her fatigues she was practically silent. When he finally noticed her out of the corner of his eye, her gaze on him as intently as his had been on the gun, he jerked his hands in surprise and gun parts scattered all over the floor.

"Damn," he muttered.

"My fault," Shepard said. "Let me help."

Together they got down on the ground hunting for the pieces of the gun.

Without looking up from the floor, Shepard asked, "You always so jumpy, Garrus?"

"I am when people sneak up on me."

"I didn't sneak."

"You could have fooled me."

She smiled. "I suppose I do walk softly. You'll get used to it."

"Or you could say, 'Hey, Garrus, what are you up to?'"

At that her brown eyes crinkled, warming with humor. "But then how would I sneak up on you?"

He chuckled. "Caught you, Commander."

"I just wanted to see how you're settling in. You miss the Citadel?"

"Oh, yes. Paperwork and regulations and routines—I live for them, didn't I tell you that?"

"I can arrange for you to have paperwork to do, if you really need some."

"Perish the thought."

They laughed together. Garrus picked up a piece of the Kovalyov and blew the dust off it, scrutinizing it carefully. No, this wasn't the problem.

"You could ask Ashley to help you," Shepard suggested. "She's good with guns."

"With all due respect, Commander, a person should be familiar with their own weapons." He glanced at her with curiosity. "You maintain your guns?"

Shepard nodded. "I try to. Sometimes … well, there's a lot to do aboard ship, and I can't take the _Normandy_ apart piece by piece, so I have to learn to trust other people to do their jobs and keep the equipment in its proper condition."

"Good point," Garrus conceded. He looked at the parts of the gun and sighed. "I'm going to have to start all over; I can't find the timing problem."

"Why not take a break and come back to it later, with fresh eyes?" Shepard suggested. "That often works for me."

"Yeah, all right." He carefully moved all the pieces into a box so they wouldn't be lost while he was gone, and glanced down at Shepard. "You have someplace you wanted to talk, Commander?"

She laughed outright, her brown eyes twinkling. "Very perceptive. I did want to have a brief talk and make sure you're settling into the ship all right."

They walked toward the elevator together. "I'm settling in fine, Commander," he told her. "I knew I would. Working with a Spectre had to be better than C-Sec."

"How did you know that? Have you worked with a Spectre before?"

He shook his head. "No, never had the pleasure. But I know what they're like."

"Oh? We're all the same?" She looked up at him. Judging from her expression, she wasn't sure if that was a compliment or an insult.

"Well, you're all free to handle things your own way, make your own rules. In my experience, people who aim for that kind of command are the type who like it."

A frown crossed Shepard's face. "Not always," she said quietly, almost as if she were talking to herself—or afraid to admit it. "Sometimes things are put into your hands that you have to take, because if you didn't they would fall and shatter."

So she hadn't been angling for the position. That was interesting to Garrus. He felt a kinship with her—he had washed out of Spectre training and ended up in C-Sec. But that was out of a lack of confidence in himself. He didn't sense that Shepard lacked confidence in her abilities, so her reluctance to take on the role of Spectre must be something else.

"But it does have its advantages," she continued, in a stronger voice.

"Exactly. If I'm trying to take down a suspect, it shouldn't matter how I do it, as long as it gets done."

"I suppose … to a limited extent."

"C-Sec takes it to the extreme," he pointed out. "Protocol and procedure should never be allowed to get in the way of doing your job."

Shepard nodded reluctantly. "Again, to a limited extent. Protocol exists for a reason—but the larger the bureaucracy, the more people there are in it who are likely to see the protocol as the job and not as what facilitates it."

"Yes."

"So no regrets about leaving?"

Garrus opened his mouth to say blithely that he had none, but … she had been honest with him, didn't he owe her the same? "Some," he admitted. "Cases I didn't quite close, a sense of … having let down those who counted on me. But I'm working for those people now still, just in a different way. And when was another opportunity like this one going to land in my lap?"

Shepard smiled. "So much of life is about knowing when to leap for the rope as it goes by."

"Not quite the way I would have put it, but … yeah, I suppose that's it."

The elevator doors slid open in front of them and they stepped in.

Shepard leaned back against the wall and looked up at Garrus with curiosity. "So, if you hate red tape and procedure, how did you end up a C-Sec officer in the first place?"

"Oh, I guess the same as most officers—I wanted to fight injustice, to help people."

"Cut the crap, Garrus. You're not a cliché, so why are you spouting them at me?" Their eyes met across the elevator. The doors slid open, and Shepard punched a button to close them again.

"What if I told you it was personal?"

"Is that what you're telling me?"

He held her gaze a moment longer, then dropped his, shaking his head. "It's the old story. At least, it's old for turians, and I imagine it's the same all over the galaxy. My father was C-Sec. One of the best."

"Now, that I understand," Shepard said in a heartfelt tone.

"Your mother, so I hear?"

"Yes. She's … something."

Garrus nodded, understanding. "And nothing you do is ever enough."

"Not so much that as just … there's always the expectation that every step is just preparation for the next step." Her cheeks pinkened faintly. "It sounds the same, but … she never criticizes, you know? Just sets the bar another notch higher."

"My father criticizes."

"That's hard to live with." Shepard let go of the elevator button, the doors sliding open. "Coffee? Or, the turian version of it?"

"Sure." He followed her off the elevator toward the mess. Several uniformed crewmembers sat there, but they all got up as Shepard approached and made an attempt to look like they were just hurrying off on important business.

She smiled, watching them go. "I wish they weren't afraid of me … but I'm glad they are."

"Spoken like a Commander."

Shepard chuckled. "I suppose. So, your father?"

"Yes. Growing up, I constantly heard about his accomplishments and saw his picture on the vids, and it was always accompanied by some relative putting their hand on my shoulder and saying, 'Bet you can't wait to follow in your father's footsteps' … or words to that effect."

"I'm sure he's thrilled you've left C-Sec."

"Absolutely. Leaving my post to join a human and chase after a highly respected turian Spectre was just what he wanted from me."

"He doesn't believe Saren's dirty?"

"He doesn't believe chasing him down is the right way to find out; he thinks launching out on my own and leaving the rules and regs behind me will make me just as bad as I think Saren is." Garrus picked up his mug and carried it to the table. He was developing a taste for human coffee, but he had to cut it heavily with a pink milk from Palaven to counteract his body's reaction to it. "Or, to put it another way—one rogue Spectre is as bad as another rogue Spectre."

"I'm a rogue, now?" Shepard lifted her eyebrows. "I suppose that's one way to look at the situation."

"It's my father's way. I … When I was younger, I wanted to be a Spectre, but—I let my father talk me out of it." He didn't know why he was telling her this. He rarely spoke of it. But he felt she ought to know.

"Really? You were going to be a Spectre?"

"Well … I was targeted as a potential candidate. Along with about a thousand other turian military recruits. Not a big deal, really."

"But your father didn't want you to be?"

"No. Rules and regs, remember? He thinks Spectres are dangerous. And maybe they are—look at Saren. But he's not going to play by C-Sec's rules, or anyone else's, so if we're going to get him, we have to be able to think like him."

Shepard nodded. "I'm afraid that's true. We'll have to beat him at his own game if we have any hope of stopping him."

"We will, Commander. I know we will."

"Thanks, Garrus. I'm glad to have you with me."

"I'm glad to be here."

They smiled at each other over the rims of their mugs.


	3. To Pass the Time

_Thank you for reading!_

* * *

On the Citadel, where there was always something to do, Garrus had forgotten just how long a day could be aboard a ship. While Shepard's team had an important task on their hands, and they kept collecting more places to go and more people to see before they could finally close with Saren, much of the work involved traveling between star systems. Even once they arrived at their destinations, Shepard only took two people with her planetside at a time, since that was all that could fit in the Mako. Which left a lot of free time hanging heavily on everyone's hands between missions.

Garrus spent a lot of his time on the extranet, hunting for details about Saren that could be used against him, and a fair amount of time talking Prothean history with Liara T'Soni, who was an expert on the subject, and weaponry and various shipboard mechanics with Tali'Zorah, the quarian Shepard had picked up on the Citadel, and Ashley Williams, the human gunnery chief. Much of his remaining free time was spent in the weight room. Williams and Kaidan Alenko were in there a lot, as well, but no one spent more time there than Shepard. Garrus couldn't tell if Shepard's obsession with weights was to do with her stature, and making sure her strength far exceeded what one might expect of someone her height, which it did, or if was to do with burning off her energy and impatience while she waited for the _Normandy_ to arrive at its destination. He shared that feeling—pushing his muscles to their limits at least made him feel like he was doing something to prepare for the inevitable showdown with Saren.

Today, however, while Liara and Ashley were planetside with Shepard hunting down a lost probe, those who remained on the ship were indulging in a different favorite way to pass the time—Skyllian poker. Wrex was a good player, if too aggressive, typical for a krogan. Kaidan played with erratic streaks of brilliance until he lost focus. And Tali was sharp and careful and precise in her betting, often coming out the winner. Garrus enjoyed pitting his skill against all three of them.

Kaidan was just raking in his winnings when Wrex cleared his throat. "So. Alenko. You and Shepard, huh?"

Garrus glanced from the krogan to the human. He had noticed the special softness in Shepard's eyes, unusual for her, when she looked at Kaidan, but hadn't realized anyone else was aware of it. Wrex was more observant than Garrus had given him credit for.

The human blushed. "I don't know what you mean."

"Yeah, tell us another one," Wrex grunted. "Can't blame you. Shepard's got a hell of a quad on her."

As Tali dealt the next hand, Kaidan frowned, clearly trying to decide if the krogan had just insulted Shepard or not.

"It's a compliment," Garrus told him.

"What else would it be?" Wrex asked.

"So?" Tali looked expectantly at Kaidan. "What about it?"

"What? Oh, I'll open for five."

"No, I meant Shepard."

"Oh." He cleared his throat. "There's … um … really nothing … I mean, there are regs, and …"

"Like regs have ever stopped anyone," Garrus jeered softly. "Raise five."

"Shepard lives for regs," Kaidan said. "Her mother's military, you know. Shepard grew up all over the galaxy; navy brat. The Alliance is all she knows."

There was a silence as the other three considered that. Wrex folded, vocally unhappy about it, and Tali doubled the bet. Of course she did. Garrus sighed, looking at his hand, knowing he'd have to fold, too, and Tali would make a meal out of whatever Kaidan had, hesitantly as he was betting. Better luck next hand, he thought.

The game proceeded for another hour or so until Wrex got tired of losing to Tali and stormed off, muttering under his breath in his own language.

"That doesn't sound nice," Tali said, watching him go.

"Nothing in the krogan language does," Garrus pointed out. "But if I were you, I might not win so often when he's playing."

He couldn't tell behind the mask of her environmental suit, but he was pretty sure she was smiling. "Can I help it if he thinks he's a better player than he is?"

"You can help taking him for everything he's got."

No doubt about it, there was a hint of a giggle in her voice as she said, "But where would be the fun in that?" She collected her winnings and was off.

"She's too smart for her own good," Garrus said to Kaidan once they were alone.

The human's eyes rested worriedly on the door. "Maybe, but she really ought to quit pushing him."

"Nah. Wrex likes it, or he wouldn't keep playing. If we all let him win, he'd worry that we didn't see him as an equal."

"You think so?"

Garrus nodded. He hesitated, then said, "So, is it true? You and the Commander?"

Kaidan flushed. "Everyone seems to know everything around here."

"Small ship, not enough to do … and …" Garrus paused.

"What?"

"No one wants to see the Commander get hurt."

Kaidan sat forward, frowning. "What makes you think I would hurt her?"

"Come on, Lieutenant, we've all had these situations develop aboard ships, and they always end badly. Sooner or later all these close quarters—first it leads to strong feelings of one kind, then it leads to strong feelings of another kind." Garrus shrugged. "We all like Shepard, and we don't want to have to blow you out an airlock."

"Hey! I would never hurt her. And besides … Shepard's tougher than she looks."

"She'd have to be. And I don't doubt it. You don't have to know her well to see how hard she works to be tougher than anyone else." Garrus thought of her long hours in the weight room, her even longer hours poring over maps with Pressly and course trajectories with Joker. She worked herself to the bone. "Kaidan."

"Yeah?"

"After this is over, after we've stopped Saren … take her somewhere, will you? Somewhere nice, for shore leave, and make her—make her enjoy herself."

The human was looking at him keenly, and for some reason Garrus felt uncomfortable under that curious gaze. "Garrus," Kaidan said slowly, "you don't have a thing for the Commander, do you?"

"What?" Garrus was startled by the notion. "Of course not. She's a human. How would that even work? No, never mind," he said immediately, not wanting either of them to have that kind of an image form in their head. "Let's just say I reserve thoughts of that kind for species I'm compatible with … and that if you make the Commander unhappy, even for an instant, you'll wish you hadn't."

"Fair enough," Kaidan agreed, "and understood. I'll … do my best to treat her the way she deserves to be treated." He smiled suddenly. "If she'll let me."

"Yes, there's always that to be considered, isn't there?"

Kaidan nodded. "Wish me luck."

"Oh, I do," Garrus assured him, "I do." But the sentiment felt hollow, and he wondered why. Kaidan was a good man, and he clearly thought the galaxy of Shepard, and she drove herself too hard and ought to have someone to teach her how to relax and let loose. All that was true, and yet Garrus didn't feel nearly as supportive as he claimed.

Later, Shepard came back from the planet and joined them in the mess hall. As they sat over cups of coffee she told them all about the little metal monkey beings on the planet, one of whom had run off with the data module they'd been looking for. As she described their efforts to chase him down, her big brown eyes sparkled, her entire face lighting up, and Garrus found he couldn't take his eyes off her. She was beautiful, animated like this. Would she ever think— He stopped himself. It was ridiculous even to speculate, he told himself. They weren't even compatible, as he had said, and she cared for Kaidan.

He pushed the thought away firmly, but had the uneasy sensation that it wasn't entirely gone.


	4. The Best at Everything

_Thank you for reading!_

* * *

Garrus was surprised to hear gunfire when he entered the antechamber of the firing range. It was late enough that he had imagined most of the others would be in bed. He would have been in bed now, too, but an email from his father had him keyed up and irritated. Only some practice with the familiarity of the gunstock on his shoulder and the sight in front of his eye would occupy his mind enough to put the email away and let him settle in for the night.

Once he had accepted that someone else was down here, it was no surprise when he peeked through the window and saw who it was. It could only be Shepard, pushing herself when everyone else was sleeping.

He stood and watched her for a minute. She had a sniper rifle in her hands, and was carefully aiming and firing, shot after shot. She had grown frustrated—he could tell it in the slight jerk to the left the gun gave just before she fired it. That was her weak spot whenever she was tired or otherwise distracted. For all that, the shots were relatively close. She'd never win any high level marksmanship awards, but she was a solid shot. Good for support—if Commander Shepard would ever allow herself to be support, that is. As he watched, she lined up another shot. Her hands were tight on the stock and trigger, her knuckles white. It didn't surprise him when the shot missed the mark by a good inch.

"Argh!" It was a sound of unbridled frustration, such as she would never allow herself to vent if she thought anyone else was nearby.

For a moment, Garrus thought about turning around and leaving, not letting her know that he was there. But he worried about her, pushing herself so hard in all the possible areas of expertise. He worried that she was pushing herself to the breaking point. He leaned forward before she could line up another shot, and touched the intercom. "You need to relax. You're too tense."

Proving his point, she jumped, nearly dropping the gun and banging her elbow hard on the counter in front of her. "Damn it, Garrus!"

"Sorry, Commander."

"No, you're not."

He chuckled. "No. I'm not. But I'm not wrong, either. You have to be one with the weapon, feel it as an extension of your arm."

She frowned at him through the glass. "I never had you pegged as someone into that kind of existential crap."

"All right, it sounds kind of pretentious," he agreed, "but it's not wrong. You have to be as familiar with the weapon and its parts as you are with your own hand and how it works—it should be second nature to lift and sight and fire."

"Hence the practicing," she snapped.

"Yeah, but you're trying too hard."

Shepard's frown had turned into a full-on glare. "There's no such thing."

"And there's your problem."

Tired as she was, small and soft and human, when her eyes narrowed and her lips thinned in the trademark Shepard scowl, Garrus was tempted to step off, to take it all back and apologize and tell her she was right and he was wrong. But since she wasn't right, and he wasn't wrong, and he was going to be putting his life and the lives of the others in her hands, he owed it to her to teach her better habits, even if she didn't want to learn them. He hit the button to open the door into the range itself.

"Come to tell me more about my 'problem', Vakarian?" There was no humor in her voice.

"Yes, I did, Shepard. Because you're pushing yourself too hard and training yourself into bad habits, and you're too good for that." He stood his ground, looking down at her, even as she glared up at him.

At last she sighed and nodded, her face relaxing. "You're right. I wouldn't accept posturing and defiance from anyone else in the face of something I knew more about than they did, and I shouldn't ask you to accept those things from me. I'm sorry, Garrus."

"Understood, Commander."

She hesitated a moment, then said, "Zia."

"Zia?"

"My name. It doesn't seem fair of me to use yours and you not even to know mine."

He shrugged, all the while turning the name over in his mind. Simple and unusual—like her. It suited her. "Chain of command, after all."

"Well, you're not exactly Alliance. More of an independent contractor. Like Wrex."

Garrus chuckled. "I'm not sure he'd appreciate the comparison."

"Maybe not."

"All right … Zia." He tested the name cautiously, relieved when she smiled. "Lesson one: There's no use training when you're exhausted. Go to sleep." She raised her eyebrows at him, and he sighed. "Yeah, I didn't think that would work. In that case, let's see your firing stance."

She picked up the rifle, lifting it to her shoulder and sighting through the scope.

Gently, Garrus reached out and touched her knuckles, then her shoulders. "Tension here and here. Since you're creating that tension through nerves rather than focus, you're not controlling it, so it's going to affect your shot."

"I thought it gave me more control."

He shook his head. "Tightening up strains the muscles. You need to aim with confidence, to know for sure where your shot is going to land."

She visibly tried to relax and took the shot. Marginally better than before. Garrus picked up his own weapon and showed her a few practice shots, letting her rest her hand on his shoulder to feel where and when it tensed and relaxed. Something in the light touch of her small, soft hand made him want to tense up in his own turn, and for reasons he strongly suspected had nothing to do with her role as his commander. He reminded himself that any thoughts in that direction were ridiculous and impossible, but it still took all his considerable skill to retain the very looseness he was trying to demonstrate.

At last, noting the dark circles under her brown eyes, he reminded her that she had a lot to do tomorrow. "You're a fine shot, anyway, Shepard. Better than Kaidan or Wrex, that's for sure."

She smiled. "I don't think 'fine' is good enough."

"You can't be the best at everything, Shepard."

"Can't I? I think I missed that memo."

"I'll write you a new one and you can hang it in your quarters. A good leader utilizes the skills of the soldiers at their command, and doesn't wear themselves to the bone trying to eclipse those skills."

"That a turian philosophy?"

He chuckled. "As a matter of fact, it is. Maybe I'm a better turian than I give myself credit for." Certainly he was a better turian than his father gave him credit for, he believed, and in the thought found the peace he had been looking for when he came in here tonight.

Shepard yawned widely, and followed it with a laugh. "All right, maybe you're right and I have other things to do that are more pressing than being a better sniper than you are. But someday, Garrus Vakarian, you mark my words, when I have the time, I'll get there."

Garrus shook his head. "If I know you, Zia Shepard, and I think I do, you'll never be someone who has that kind of time."

She sighed and nodded her agreement. "You're probably right … but it's nice to think about. I could use a good long rest with nothing better to do than beat you in a marksmanship contest." At that, she said good-night and left him there. He fired a few more rounds just to say he'd done it, and went to bed himself.


	5. The Life of a Human

_Thank you for reading!_

* * *

Garrus followed Shepard through the science lab, guns at the ready. Liara had gone around a stack of crates to their left, in hopes of flanking the husks they knew would be in here waiting for them. It was eerily silent other than the _whump whump_ of a centrifuge still turning somewhere inside the facility.

It had become clear that the entire population of Chasca had been turned into these mindless beings. They attacked seemingly out of nowhere, for reasons Garrus didn't entirely understand. Did they want brains, like those human zombie vids he'd seen? Or did they eat flesh? If they did, they were remarkably indiscriminate—they didn't seem to differentiate between human and asari flesh and the hard plates of a turian and whatever lay under Tali's environmental suit or the densely packed muscles of the krogan. Maybe they were angry at being husks and just wanted revenge, or maybe it was some programming from the spikes that impaled them and turned them into these creatures. In the end, it didn't matter—the husks would attack because it was what they did, and Garrus and Shepard and Liara would kill them both in self-defense and because it was kinder than leaving them to live like that. He wasn't even sure what husks lived on. Would they eat each other?

"Garrus," Shepard hissed. "Snap out of it."

He hadn't realized he had let his gun hand drop as he tried to puzzle out the realities of life as a husk. Now he snapped it up again, leveling the shotgun and looking around, trying to calculate where they would attack from.

And then he had his answer—everywhere. Husks were swarming toward them faster than Garrus could keep track of. He swung the shotgun toward one and blew its head off, but then surprisingly strong fingers had latched on to the weapon and were trying to tear it from his hands. He yanked it back and smashed the gun across the husk's face, sending it staggering back. Garrus leveled the shotgun and blew a hole through the middle of the husk's chest.

From the corner of his eye he could see the blue glow of Liara's biotics as they lifted a husk in the air and slammed it back down on the ground, and the sound of shots being fired came from Shepard on his other side. But the rhythm of the shots was erratic, not the steady stream of fire he was used to hearing from her. "Shepard," he shouted over the groaning of the husks around him. "You all right?"

No answer.

He elbowed a husk in the throat and kicked another in the knee, trying to get enough room to aim the shotgun, then decided the hell with it, dropped the shotgun, and drew his pistol. That went faster. Turning, aiming, firing, watching husk after husk fall and trying not to think that days, maybe weeks, ago these were people with lives and loved ones.

As the last one dropped, Liara came up to him, panting. "I think that's the last of them." She shivered. "It's eerie to think that we're the last living beings on this planet."

They probably weren't—bugs or rodents or microbes of some kind surely still lived here somewhere—but Garrus understood what she meant. He looked over her head, expecting a remark from Shepard, but none came. He couldn't even see Shepard. "Commander?"

No answer.

Liara glanced worriedly in the direction Shepard had gone. "Do you think she went into the back rooms?"

"Even Shepard wouldn't go off alone," Garrus said, trying to believe it. Shepard too often seemed to think she was indestructible.

Carefully he and Liara moved among the stacks of crates surrounding them. "Commander?" Garrus called softly. "Shepard?" He didn't know why he was keeping his voice down, except that the silence in the room was oppressive. "Zia?" He kept the word soft, for some reason not wanting Liara to hear him call the commander by her first name.

A faint moan answered him, and he moved faster, coming around a corner to see Shepard lying on the ground, holding her head. Bright red blood showed on her white gloves, and Garrus's heart seemed to stop beating and then began again, thudding painfully in his chest. He and Liara went on their knees next to Shepard.

Liara moved the commander's hand away from her head. "That looks bad."

"Shepard, can you hear me?" Garrus asked insistently, willing her to open her eyes and look at him. "Shepard!"

No response. Blood was pulsing sluggishly from the wound on the side of her head. Liara frowned at it. "I don't have any way to pack that off."

Garrus slipped his arms underneath Shepard's still figure. "We need to get her back to the _Normandy_. Can you handle the Mako?"

"Yes. I'll radio Joker." Liara moved ahead through the science facility, keying the comm link in her collar. "Joker, come in. Joker, are you there?"

Static, and then Joker's familiar voice, sharp and concerned. It faded as Liara entered the hallway that separated the main room from the front entrance. Garrus got to his feet, tucking Shepard against his chest. For all her work in the weight room, she was very light in his arms. Too light for someone as substantial as Commander Shepard. "You hang on," he told her fiercely, his feet moving swiftly down the carpeted hallway.

He lifted a foot and kicked the plate to open the main door. Liara had the door of the Mako standing open, the engine rumbling. "Joker's five minutes out," she told him.

"Did you tell him to step on it?"

"I didn't have to. As soon as he heard me speaking instead of Shepard— He's pushing the _Normandy_ to its limits."

"Good."

Between them, they carefully maneuvered Shepard into the Mako. Garrus should probably have let Liara hold her and handled the Mako himself, but somehow, and for reasons he didn't want to consider, he couldn't bear to let go of the small, still form. She was breathing, but shallowly. "Does Dr. Chakwas know? Is she meeting us in the hold?"

"Yes." Liara slammed the door of the Mako shut, glancing over the controls quickly. Shepard so rarely agreed to let anyone else drive that none of them were as familiar with the vehicle as they ought to be. Garrus intended to have some strong words with Shepard about training her people for emergencies like this one once she had recovered.

He looked at the wound in the dim interior light of the Mako. It was still bleeding, slowly, as the blood coagulated around it. He wished he knew more about human physiology, enough to determine from the color of the blood how much damage there had been. In a turian, he would have known the difference. Stripping off his glove, he gently touched the area around the wound. Shepard shifted under the touch, moaning in pain, and he withdrew his hand immediately, his fingers brushing across the stubble of her hair.

It surprised him by being soft to the touch when he would have expected a sharper, more bristly texture, and he couldn't resist touching it again, resting his hand on the top of her head, well away from the wound, hoping she would feel the touch as a comfort.

"Zia." He kept his voice low so as not to distract Liara from her struggles with the Mako's controls. Whatever she was saying about the machine's designers was far from complimentary. "Zia," he said again, slightly louder, bending his head to be closer to her. "Look at me, Zia."

There was no response, and he drew in a deep breath. What if the wound was even more serious than it looked? What if she—

Garrus tried to tell himself that he couldn't imagine what would happen to the pursuit of Saren without her, that he didn't know who would step into her place, but he knew that there was more to it than that. He didn't know what he would do without her. In a fairly short amount of time, she had taken a place in his life that he hadn't even known was there until now, when he was forced to contemplate the vast emptiness that would be left if she wasn't in it any longer. "Don't … don't you die on me," he told her, hoping she could hear him.

Beneath him, he could feel the propulsion jets roar into life, the Mako taking off. He realized he had never managed to buckle himself, or Shepard, in. If Liara made a mistake, they might both die. But the asari's hands were firm on the controls, her knuckles a dark purple with the strength of her grip.

"How is she?" Liara asked.

"She's still with us."

"Good."

Garrus stroked his hand once again across the softness of Shepard's dark hair, praying to spirits he wasn't sure he believed in, and who he didn't think cared a straw for the life of a human, to keep her with him.


	6. Whenever She Needed Him

_Thank you for reading!_

* * *

Garrus was stretched out under the Mako, tinkering with the firing system, enjoying the silence of the cargo hold. It was late; everyone had gone to bed, other than Wrex, who just threw his bedroll behind a stack of crates, and the lone ensign whose job it was to patrol the area. Alliance regs, Garrus assumed, to ensure that the aliens on the ship didn't damage anything. Pesky aliens, he thought with an inward chuckle.

He had gotten used to the rhythm of the ensign's footsteps, and so he noticed when it had been longer than usual since he had last heard them. Sliding out from under the Mako, he found he wasn't surprised to see Shepard sitting there.

"You tell Ensign Schaeffer to take five?"

"I did." She leaned back against the wall, closing her eyes. "It's been a long couple of days."

"So you came to the cargo hold? I'd have gone to my comfortable bed, I think."

"You didn't, though. You came down here to …"

"Calibrate the Mako's firing systems."

"Naturally." She managed a smile. Garrus could see the dark circles under her eyes.

He moved over to sit next to her. "How are you holding up?"

Shepard sighed, rolling her head back and forth on the wall in lieu of shaking it. "I've been better."

"You won, Shepard. You beat Saren; you destroyed his breeding grounds."

"But at what cost, Garrus? Was it worth it?" She opened her eyes, looking at him as though she truly expected him to have the answer.

He wished he knew what to say to her. It tore at her that they'd left Ashley Williams behind on Virmire to either be killed by Saren's forces or blown up by their own nuke. Most of the salarian forces had been left behind as well, and he knew Shepard felt that as a personal failure. But Ashley had been part of their team, someone they had all worked with and trusted. She had expected them to have her back. But she had also been a soldier, just as the salarians had been, and she had known the risks of her job. "If it had been you, would you have wanted us to risk the lives of the entire crew to come for you?"

"I'd have told you to get the hell out of there."

"So would Ashley. She did tell you that, didn't she?"

"Yes. That's what she said. And I know it was the right decision, but—"

Garrus knew what she wasn't saying. Kaidan. He had taken Ashley's death hard, especially since the decision had come when Shepard had been forced to turn back to protect him. That she had also needed to come back to protect the nuke and make sure it wasn't prevented from destroying the facility wasn't something the lieutenant appeared to have considered. In the meeting after they had left Virmire, Kaidan had all but openly accused Shepard of having abandoned Ashley because of her feelings for him. Garrus had been embarrassed for both of them. It was an unprofessional thing for Kaidan to have said, especially in front of others, but Shepard's reaction had made it clear that he wasn't entirely wrong, either.

"You can't make him be okay with it," he said to her gently. "He'll come around. He—he cares about you."

"He can't really think that he was the only reason, can he?"

"If he thinks he was any reason at all, he'll feel guilty, and he'll lash out until he has the chance to work through what he feels and come out the other side." Garrus understood where Kaidan was coming from; the human's experience in combat had been relatively limited, and he had been faced with few deaths. Garrus was similar—he had spent most of his career with C-Sec, and was fairly sheltered, but he was a turian, and turians were steeped in combat and its dangers. Humans, on the other hand, were not, even soldiers, and it always took them longer to get used to losing people. Shepard had been through her trial of fire in the Skyllian Blitz; she understood what it meant to be in command, and what you might have to order others to do. But a squad was different than a single person; holding a position and watching those around you die in the process was different than having to tell someone over the comm link that instead of coming back for them, you were going to save someone else. With Ashley, it had been personal—Shepard had been forced to choose between two crew members. That wasn't something they trained you to do in leadership school, Garrus thought—at least, not if you weren't turian.

"What if he doesn't work through it? What if he never forgives me?"

It was a side of her few people ever saw, Garrus knew, and he understood and appreciated the level of trust it took for her to bring something this close to her heart—and this unmilitary—to him. But he couldn't help thinking that he wasn't the right person to be giving her advice on her relationship, not when he still felt that disquieting inexplicable impossible attraction to her pop up when he least expected it, and that undeniable stab of jealousy that she might bring her problems to him, but it was Kaidan she looked to as a partner. It was ridiculous, he knew that—turians and humans weren't at all compatible, as far as he knew, and she'd never shown any indication that she thought of him in that way in return—but he couldn't help the occasional twinge of longing. He'd never known anyone quite like her before. He was sure he would never know anyone like her again.

Which left him at a loss as to how to answer her question. And she was still looking at him, her brown eyes wide and soft and vulnerable, trusting that he would know what to say. Why she should, he didn't know—it wasn't as though he knew the first thing about sustaining a relationship, after all. But she was hardly going to talk to Wrex about this, and Tali's case of hero worship was such that she wouldn't accept any flaws in her adored Shepard. While Liara might have greater insight, she had made overtures to Shepard early on in the voyage, overtures Shepard had not returned. The two of them had gotten past that and were good friends; nevertheless, the asari was hardly someone Shepard could confide in about a romantic dilemma. That left Garrus. And he had made it a practice to be honest with her from the start, finding her perspective different enough from his that it challenged him to think in new ways.

"Garrus?" she asked, apparently having realized he was lost in thought and not going to answer.

He drew his attention back to her. "Sorry. I was just … thinking."

"And?"

"And you know Alenko. He's impulsive, emotional. Feels things deeply. He has to think about these things. But, at the heart of it, he cares about you, very much. He'll come around."

"And if he's right?" she whispered.

"Ashley knew the risks when she went with the salarians. She told you to go back for Kaidan and protect the nuke rather than come for her. It was her decision as much as yours. Honor her courage by owning your decision, by standing behind it, by being certain of it."

Shepard nodded slowly. "Yes. You must think I'm so foolish, coming down here wringing my hands this way."

He looked her in the eye. "Zia, I think you push yourself to the breaking point every day. I think you don't sleep nearly enough, you work too hard without a break, and you carry the weight of the galaxy on your back, as well as the welfare of everyone on your team and your ship. All of which leaves you with no resources left for emergencies. You wouldn't be a part of organic life if you didn't break down and doubt yourself, and others, occasionally."

"You're probably right," she said at last, reluctantly.

"Probably? I am right. Which is why you came down here for my wisdom and guidance."

"That's what you think. I came down for the peace and quiet. Time alone with the Mako."

"Yes, I know how much you care for it," he said dryly, thinking of the way she cursed the thing as she tried to drive it up mountainsides that were too steep for it to go.

"As a reminder that I'm not always in control of everything, it's incomparable."

"Good point. Maybe I should leave the two of you alone, then."

She shook her head, leaning it back against the wall and closing her eyes. "You can go back to your calibrations. I'll just sit here for a minute."

"All right." But he didn't. He sat beside her and watched as she fell asleep sitting there, glad that she could finally relax enough to allow herself to forget Virmire. And he cursed Kaidan Alenko for being lucky enough to have earned her affection and self-involved enough to turn his back when she felt most vulnerable. Well, Garrus would be here in his stead, he vowed, whenever she needed him.


	7. Get It Together, Vakarian

_Thank you for reading!_

* * *

Garrus reached for the bottle of brandy, upending it over his glass and letting the last of the liquid trickle out, making sure to get the last drop. The bottle had been full not that long ago, he remembered somewhat hazily. He had waited until his father left for the base and then started drinking, and here it was the middle of the day and the bottle was empty. Was it the middle of the day? He looked up at the window, squinting, to determine the light level. Yes. Time was passing at its usual glacial pace. And to think he used to complain that the days were long on the _Normandy_.

Thinking of the _Normandy_ had been a mistake. He tossed the empty bottle behind him and drained the last of the brandy from the glass. He considered tossing it, too, but he might want it later. He _would_ want it later, who was he kidding? Massive quantities of alcohol was the only way he was able to close his eyes and not see the flaming pieces of the _Normandy_ falling all around him, not hear the squealing scream of metal coming apart—not to mention the shrieks of the wounded. And, worse, the emptiness where the voice of Shepard should have been.

He had stuck it out with the rest of the survivors for a little while after the crash, but it had become clear very quickly that the Alliance wanted them all gone. The Alliance crew had been reassigned to different ships within weeks of the crash, and the aliens had been politely but firmly provided with a final deposit of credits into their accounts and sent on their way. Liara was already gone by that point, having received a mysterious message of some kind that had distressed and excited her in equal measure, as far as Garrus could tell. Credits in hand, and without Shepard to hold them, Tali had gone back to the Migrant Fleet and Wrex had returned to Tuchanka. Which had left Garrus at loose ends. Kaidan had been reassigned, too, and Garrus hadn't minded that. For all that he and the lieutenant were friends … Kaidan's vocal grief over the loss of Shepard had rankled within Garrus. Graceless and unbecoming as it was to be jealous that someone else had a better right to mourn the dead, that was exactly how Garrus had felt. It had been a relief to have some separation from the way Kaidan had carried his broken heart on his sleeve.

He had tried C-Sec briefly, but the Citadel had changed so after Sovereign's attack that it no longer felt like home—and C-Sec hadn't changed enough. The red tape was still thick enough to trap a person for the rest of his life. No, C-Sec was not going to be a long-term solution. Or a short-term one, for that matter. So he'd left.

Without a better option, he had come home to Palaven, where he was staying with his father. He had spent a week drinking his way through the days and in the evenings doing an elaborate dance to keep his father from signing him up in the turian military.

Shepard would understand that, wouldn't she? he thought. She knew he had never been meant for the regimentation of military life. She had, though—or she had tried to be. He'd never met anyone who worked harder at being the best soldier they could be … and since he was a turian, that was saying something.

Tapping his omni-tool, he pulled up the extranet, typing in Shepard's name. He scrolled through the news reports about her death, and the features on her battle in the Citadel. They were already whitewashing that, blaming Saren as a rogue Spectre allied with the geth. All trace of Sovereign, any mention of the Reapers, had been thoroughly scrubbed.

There it was. Shepard's official bio, or as official as it got unless you intended to hack the Alliance database. Zia Shepard. Military kid. Dragged from base to base all her life. There was a fair amount about her mother, Hannah Shepard, but nothing about a father. Garrus wondered about that. Had he been left behind in the course of Shepard Senior's career? Been killed in the line of duty? Shepard had been a small child during the First Contact War, so it was possible. Garrus's own mother had died young, shortly after the birth of his sister. He had been raised by his father, aided by a succession of nursemaids. He wondered how it had been for Shepard, raised only by her mother. He thought about asking her.

The reality that he could never ask Shepard a question again struck him like a blow to the chest. He gasped audibly with the impact, his throat closing and aching. Automatically he reached for the glass, getting it halfway to his mouth before he realized it was empty, no relief or comfort to be found inside it. Staring at the bottom of the glass, discolored from the brandy, Garrus asked himself if this was really how he wanted to respond to her death, if she would approve of how he was spending his days.

She wouldn't, he was sure. He could practically hear her now. "Get it together, Vakarian."

"I'm trying," he muttered to the shade of her.

Pulling up the extranet picture of her mother, who looked just like an older Shepard with hair, he wondered if she also had a similar voice. His finger hovered over the vidchat button. Maybe he should call her mother, tell her …

Tell her what? That he had been Zia's shipmate? That she had occasionally confided in him? That he found himself utterly lost without her? That he had no right to feel that way, because she had loved someone else? He could only imagine Hannah Shepard's reaction to that amount of unnecessary soul-baring.

Clearing the browser, Garrus moved his hand away from the omni-tool. It had been a foolish impulse to use it in the first place. Zia was gone; all the extranet entries in the galaxy couldn't change that. Neither could bottle after bottle of turian brandy. Soon he was going to have to make a decision about what to do with his life, how to move forward.

He had never seriously considered the turian military; the past week had convinced him that he couldn't live with his father, and being under his father's command would be a nightmare. He could go back to C-Sec, try it one more time. Probably he should. He had been good at the work, even if he hadn't enjoyed the protocols and procedures. Shepard had been all about the rules and regulations, the trappings of the military lifestyle. Maybe he owed it to her to give it another chance.

Aimlessly, he hit a few buttons on the omni-tool, ending up on a newsvid site, watching Shepard's old friend Emily Wong report on some kind of gang activity on Omega.

Omega? Garrus sat up straight, forcing himself to pay attention to the vid. Omega. Haven of criminals, hotbed of gang activity. An enterprising turian could do some good work cleaning up there, especially if he emulated his former commander and gathered a good team around himself. And there would be no one hovering over his shoulder quoting chapter and verse.

Clicking off the omni-tool, he got to his feet, waiting until his knees stopped wobbling beneath him. He would go to Omega, and he would make a difference, and he would forget the _Normandy_ and Zia Shepard … someday.


	8. The White Hard Suit

Garrus lifted the rifle to his shoulder, sighted through the scope, and fired. The merc went down. It wasn't as clean a shot as he would have liked, but the merc was wasn't getting up again, which at this point was the goal.

Sighing, he put the rifle down, and rubbed his eye and the back of his neck. It had been a long day. Maybe a long couple of days—he'd lost track. And the mercs just kept coming. The gangs were hanging back, feeding these hirelings to him a few at a time, wearing him down. It was a good tactic, he had to admit. He was tiring, his hands shaking just enough to mar the precision of his aim. He had given up on thinking about what he would do when he got out of here, imagining the revenge he would take when he found Sidonis, who had betrayed him and caused the death of his whole team. It was increasingly unlikely Garrus would ever get out of here. He would take as many of the gang members and mercs as he could with him, but he would die eventually, overborne by greater numbers. Archangel would be remembered on Omega, if only for having united all the gangs into a single force. Would Garrus Vakarian be remembered? Probably not. Maybe by those who studied the battle of the Citadel, what few bits of that story still remained after Sovereign and the Reapers had been scrubbed from it. He was proud of that, and of his team, and the work they had done here on Omega. That would have to be enough.

Lifting the rifle once more, he trained the scope on a merc moving swiftly between two crates. Squinting, he took another look. Huh. This one was a salarian. Not a lot of salarian mercs out there—and this particular salarian dressed more like a doctor than a fighter. Garrus adjusted the scope and trained it on the salarian's face. That was a doctor—it was Mordin Solus, who ran a clinic in another part of Omega. Garrus had heard that section was quarantined, overrun by some kind of plague. He hadn't paid too much attention, occupied with the loss of his team and his increasing persecution by the gangs. If Solus was here, the plague must either have run its course or killed enough people that there was no further need for a clinic.

Garrus considered putting a bullet in Solus's chest. It would be relatively easy to do—the white coat he wore was undoubtedly armored, but wouldn't be nearly as effective in stopping a bullet as a hard suit, he had to imagine. Then he thought better of it. After all, if someone had to take him out, he thought he'd prefer it to be a salarian doctor who had at least tried to help people than some hireling, or a member of the Blue Suns or Eclipse or the Blood Pack.

He swung the rifle slightly to the right, to the broad chest of the man with the salarian. Human, this one. Typical merc size and shape, but he moved like he'd had training. Well, no surprise there. The Alliance had a lot of dissatisfied former soldiers out there, selling their training to the highest bidder. Usually they tended to be more furtive than this man, though. And his hard suit—there was an insignia there that Garrus recognized. Cerberus.

Pulling back from the scope, Garrus rubbed the back of his neck again as he considered that. What the hell was a Cerberus guy doing coming after him? It wasn't Cerberus itself—even if they wanted Archangel dead for some reason, they wouldn't send one guy. They'd take over the whole damned operation. Briefly he considered the possibility that this was an ex-Cerberus guy, but you really didn't meet a lot of those. Cerberus had a way of taking care of its more failed soldiers—certainly, no one who had walked away from Cerberus would still be wearing armor with the logo proudly emblazoned on it.

And the Cerberus guy was with the salarian, which was all kinds of wrong. Cerberus experimented on other species, they didn't work with them.

Really, none of this made any sense at all. On the other hand, the mystery of it had woken him up a bit, sharpened his focus. He snapped off a quick shot at a merc just climbing over the barricade, seeing him fall backward, arms windmilling, and then loaded a concussive round, sending it square into Cerberus Guy's chest. It knocked him back a bit, but didn't do anything more.

Behind Cerberus Guy and slightly to the right there was a third member of this little squad. Well, that took Garrus back. All those firefights with Shepard, three of them ranged slightly apart, counting on one another. He missed that. The team he had assembled had been good, but there hadn't been time, or perhaps the stakes hadn't been high enough, to truly build those bonds he had developed on the _Normandy_. He missed Shepard suddenly, fiercely, and wondered why. Because he was so close to death?

Taking another look at the third merc, he realized why—it was the white hard suit. Shepard had always favored white. Dirty, scuffed, cracked, showing every mark of battle. Like she was wearing her war wounds proudly on her chest. This merc's hard suit was new, still shiny.

Forgetting where he was, he watched her for a minute. Definitely a woman, a human. Small, like Shepard had been. She even moved like Shepard. Garrus had spent far more time on missions than he should probably admit to watching the way Shepard moved, and he remembered that slow, deliberate step, that rigid set of the shoulders as she aimed her weapon. How many times had he told her not to do that? he thought in annoyance. Then he caught himself. Of course this wasn't Shepard.

As he watched, the woman in white aimed and picked off a merc in front of her.

Really. Well, that was an interesting development. Garrus looked over at Solus and Cerberus Guy, each of whom were engaged in shooting their fellow mercs in the back. So—an extraction time? He couldn't see why. No one knew who he was, and Archangel had no affiliations that would be to anyone's benefit. Some unit determined to take the glory of killing him for themselves rather than leave it for the gangs?

Then the woman in white flipped up her visor for a clearer field of vision, and Garrus nearly dropped his rifle.

He would have known those brown eyes anywhere.

How was it possible that Zia Shepard, who had been spaced in the destruction of the _Normandy_ two years ago, was still alive, was here on Omega with a salarian doctor and a Cerberus guy, and was coming for him? Maybe he was already dead. Yes, that must be it. He was dead and this was the afterlife—shooting mercs and seeing Shepard again. He could imagine worse fates.

But he didn't feel dead. He felt … more alive than he had been in two years, the blood coursing hotly through his veins, his heart pounding.

Behind Shepard, the other mercs were beginning to catch on to what she and her team were doing. He shot a batarian, swung the rifle and shot a turian, and then back again to another batarian, before loading another concussive round. Carefully he aimed and slammed the shot into Shepard's shoulder. She staggered a couple of steps, but otherwise ignored the impact and kept coming on, shooting another merc as she did. So he hit her again, just because he could, chuckling to himself as he watched her speed up slightly. Good. She'd been taking too long as it was. Now that he was sure of her, he wanted her up here where he could get a good look at her, hear that firm voice, and ask her just what the hell she had been playing at to let everyone think she was dead.


	9. Back from the Dead

_Thank you for reading!_

* * *

Shepard and her crew had made it across the bridge. In the rooms below him, Garrus could hear gunfire as they shot it out with the mercs, but he wasn't worried. It had taken her ship blowing up to take out Shepard before—she could handle a few cut-rate mercenaries. And if she couldn't, she wasn't really Shepard, was she?

His heart pounded as he strained to hear her team's progress. They were on the stairs now. Shepard was light of foot as always, and the salarian moved well, but Cerberus Guy walked like he was the vanguard of a herd of elephants.

He kept his back to the door. It was foolhardy—after all, no one knew Archangel was Garrus Vakarian, so they could easily be here to kill him. But he didn't think they were, not after they had shot their way through a pile of mercs, and, more to the point, he couldn't seem to turn around. He was gripped by a sudden fear that if he did, it wouldn't be Shepard at all, and the disappointment would be more than he could bear in his current wearied condition. Garrus had already given some thought to the idea that he was hallucinating—and if he was, he wanted to keep doing it as long as possible.

They were in the doorway now. He held his breath, waiting.

"Archangel."

Spirits. It really was her. Zia Shepard, alive and standing there in his doorway on what would otherwise have been the last day of his life. If miracles existed, this was one.

Forcing himself to start breathing again, Garrus turned around, slowly, not hurrying, and unlatched his helmet. Now that he knew she was real, he was nervous about what her reaction would be to seeing him. Would she be happy? Was she still herself at all, for that matter? Zia Shepard had been spaced—no one came back from being spaced, he reminded himself. But even as he said it, he was looking through the visor of his helmet at her wide brown eyes, at her soft sweet mouth, at the shorn stubble of her hair, and believing it was her, with everything that implied.

He pulled off the helmet. "Shepard."

Those big brown eyes widened even further. "Garrus?" Then, again, with happiness and a deep relief, "Garrus!" She threw herself at him, her arms going around his waist. Garrus couldn't stop his arms from circling her in return. She had never hugged him before. But then, she had never come back from the dead before, either. She gave him another squeeze and stepped back, her eyes searching his face. "Garrus! How the hell are you?"

"Better now," he told her, coughing at the end to cover the huskiness of his voice. "How are _you_? Because I thought you were dead. We all did."

"I was." She glanced over her shoulder. "It's a long story, and probably not one we have time for right now. Probably just like the one about the turian C-Sec officer who ended up on Omega calling himself Archangel."

"Yeah, that one's pretty tedious."

"I bet I won't agree when he finally tells it to me."

They looked one another in the eye, each challenging the other to explain themselves, and then chuckled.

"Stubborn as ever, I see," Shepard said. "What are you doing here? The short version."

Garrus shrugged. "Just keeping my skills sharp. A little target practice."

She frowned at him. "You sound tired. You okay?"

"It's been a long day. But it's good to see a friendly face." His hand lifted to touch her cheek. He caught it before she noticed, and then glanced over her shoulder to see if her companions had seen. Mordin Solus was busy inspecting the weaponry Garrus had stockpiled, but Cerberus Guy was paying attention, and he didn't like it at all. Uneasily, Garrus wondered if there was something between the two of them. It had been two years, after all, plenty of time for a person to move on. He wondered if Kaidan knew she was alive.

Shepard noticed the direction of his gaze and turned to include the others in the conversation. "Garrus, this is Mordin Solus. He's just agreed to join my mission."

"I've heard of Dr. Solus." Garrus gave the salarian a friendly nod.

Solus spoke in rapid-fire bursts. "Garrus Vakarian. Archangel. Makes sense. Should have guessed."

"Right?" Shepard agreed. "I could kick myself. Turian, dislike of authority, striking out on his own … all the signs were there." She turned to Cerberus Guy. "And this is Jacob Taylor."

"I've heard a lot about you," Cerberus Guy said.

"Much checkered, I'm sure."

"You'd be surprised."

Garrus considered he probably would be. He'd love to know what Shepard had said about him. But no doubt Cerberus Guy, Taylor, had gotten most of it from some official dossier somewhere. "And you're all here to rescue me out of the goodness of your hearts?"

"I came to recruit Archangel for a job, only to find he'd managed to piss off every major merc organization in the Terminus Systems. When you do something, you sure go all the way."

"It's a gift," Garrus agreed. He shook his head. "I'm still amazed that they teamed up to fight me. They must really hate me."

A burst of gunfire from the bridge reminded them why they were here. Garrus picked up his weapon from where he had set it down at his side.

"You nailed me pretty good with that thing, by the way," Shepard told him.

"Concussive rounds," he said. "No harm done. Couldn't have the mercs getting suspicious."

She looked up at him skeptically. "Uh-huh."

"Now, Shepard, we both know if I'd wanted to do more than take your shields down, I'd have done it. Besides, you were taking your sweet time. I needed to get you moving."

"So you'll come on board with me?"

"You get me out of here and we'll talk." Of course he would go. Anywhere she wanted. But there was no point capitulating so quickly. "And I don't think getting out will be as easy as getting in. That bridge has saved my life, funnelling all those witless idiots into scope, but it works both ways. They'll slaughter us if we try to get out that way."

"We can't just sit here and wait for them to come to us," Taylor pointed out, his tone harsh and aggressive. He hadn't been with Shepard long, then, Garrus surmised, not if he didn't trust her to come up with a plan. Briefly he considered that maybe she wasn't up to coming up with plans … but she sounded like herself, so he had to believe she really was herself.

"We can for a little while yet," Shepard said. Her eyes were still on the bridge; she hadn't even seemed to register Taylor's tone. "We hold this location, take out as many mercs as we can, and wait for a crack in their defenses. Then we take our chances." She looked up at Garrus, frowning. "I'd love to know how you got yourself into this position."

He had meant to lie, or at least be flippant, but it was still so damn hard not to tell her the truth. "My feelings got in the way of my better judgment," he said briefly. "It's a long story."

"I look forward to hearing it when we get out of here."

"Good. Let's do that, then." He raised the sniper rifle, sighting through the scope. "Let's see what they're up to."

On the bridge, he could see movement. Scouts. Eclipse, he thought. That was heartening—they had stopped throwing hired thugs at him.

He said as much to Shepard, handing her the rifle. "Here. Take a look."

She lifted it to her shoulder, looking through. Then she squeezed the trigger easily and one of the oncoming LOKI mechs lost its head. "More than scouts," she said. "One less now, though."

"Form's not bad," he told her.

"I'm a little rusty." She smiled up at him. "I could use a good teacher."

Garrus's heart thudded in his chest, before he reminded himself that he was a turian and she was a human and she'd never thought of him that way anyway. Fortunately, the mercs were firing now, providing an excellent distraction.

With Mordin, a surprisingly good shot, and Taylor, who fired with carefully trained precision, they managed to take out the first wave.

They had a quick breather there, enough for Garrus to take in the determined set to Shepard's jaw and her focused expression. How familiar they were, even now. "Just like old times," he said to her.

From the door into the main building, Taylor called, "I think I hear movement down below."

"Damn. I thought that was going to take them longer."

"I'll go down and check it out."

"I'll keep the bridge clear."

She glanced down at the bridge, where the next wave of mercs was massing, then looked up at him, studying his face. "Let's split up two and two. I'll leave one of my team here."

"I'll be fine," Garrus protested, although he didn't feel fine. He felt exhausted. She must have seen it. She always had been good at gauging her team. "Besides, who knows what you'll find down there."

"I can handle it." She glanced at the salarian. "Mordin, you stay with Garrus. Keep him safe."

"Will do what I can," the salarian assured her.

"Thanks, Shepard." The sounds from below were louder now. "You'd better get going. Do what you do best."

She smiled. "I'm on it. See you in a few."

And then she was gone, and Garrus and the salarian were left alone, holding off the next wave of attacks.

It seemed to be going well, with Shepard and Taylor below keeping the rooms clear and Mordin and Garrus up top watching the bridge. They even appeared to be winning. Until Tarak showed up with that damned gunship. Garrus turned, pushing Mordin out of the way, but it wasn't the salarian they wanted. It had never been the salarian they wanted. The bullets pounded into his suit, knocking him this way and that, the spray heavy enough that he couldn't stand up under it, or get out of its way. His last thought before darkness claimed him was that he should have asked Shepard what it was like to be dead. Then at least he would have known what was ahead of him.


	10. The Normandy

_Thank you for reading!_

* * *

Garrus came out of the blackness into the vice grip of pain. His face was on fire, his side like a sheet of flame. In the midst of it, her voice, calling his name. Groggily, he thought he had died, and gone to wherever Zia had gone. But then he remembered that she was alive; she had come to Omega looking for him. Or for Archangel, which worked out the same. And he was damned if he was going to die now, without knowing where she had come from and why she was still here.

He woke again in a fuzzy cocoon of warmth, blinking the world's edges back into sharp focus. He was in a medical unit, that much he could tell, and had been heavily dosed with painkillers. Whatever damage had been done must be extensive, he judged, given the sluggishness of his thoughts and his overall lack of interest in moving. Not much to be done but lie there and wait to find out where he was, so that's what he did, drifting in and out of consciousness.

Eventually when he came to he found himself staring into a familiar pair of sharp green eyes that were studying him with concern. "Dr. Chakwas?" he said, his voice creaking as he used it. His face hurt when he talked. Maybe he should keep his mouth shut for a while. If he could, anyway. Keeping his mouth shut had never been Garrus's strong suit.

"The same," she responded. "Glad to see you're still with us. It was touch and go there for a while."

Garrus was less interested in his own prognosis than in the sudden and inexplicable familiarity of his surroundings. He had been in this medbay before. Many times, being patched up after another trip planetside with Shepard. " _Normandy_?"

"You should stop talking," Dr. Chakwas admonished him. "You'll rip out your stitches."

This time he settled for clearing his throat pointedly, which hurt marginally less.

She smiled. "Yes, you're on the _Normandy_. _Normandy_ SR-2, to be specific. Completely rebuilt with modifications by Cerberus."

He made a garbled sound that he hoped expressed surprise, concern, and a desire to know more.

"I really think I should wait and let Shepard explain."

Garrus tried to say "Shepard" without moving his mouth, and was not at all surprised when Dr. Chakwas shot him up with another dose of painkiller.

"Get some more rest, and we'll answer your questions when your stitches have healed a bit more."

That sounded like a good plan to him. He was either dead and the afterlife was the _Normandy_ , which he found he was okay with, or he was alive and so was Shepard, which he was more than okay with.

When he woke up next, Garrus felt much better. Dr. Chakwas seemed to agree—at least, she didn't argue with him too hard when he insisted on getting up to take a look at the rest of the _Normandy_ , giving him a prognosis report on his recovery while he was getting dressed. A bit woozy from the residue of the painkillers and however long he'd spent on his back in medbay, he paused in the doorway to get his bearings. He could feel the engines under his feet again. Slowly he became aware of two people talking near him. One was Shepard; the other was Cerberus Guy. Garrus searched his memory for the name. Jacob, yes.

Jacob was expressing what sounded like concerns about Garrus's ability to recover from his wounds. Chakwas hadn't said anything about that, and usually she wasn't one to sugarcoat the truth. She had talked about some cybernetic implants and some surgery that would need a few more days to heal so that he would be ready for action again, but otherwise seemed to think he would be good as new before too long. What did Cerberus Guy have against him anyway? Garrus thought with some irritation.

He made his way out of the doorway, finding Jacob and Shepard sitting at one of the long tables in the mess hall. Jacob stopped speaking and looked up at him, startled, and Shepard turned around, her face brightening at the sight of him. "Garrus! You're up. How are you feeling?"

Garrus shrugged.

"Damn, Garrus, you're a tough son-of-a-bitch," Jacob said with what seemed like genuine admiration. "I didn't think you'd be up yet."

"Takes a lot to get me down," Garrus told him. He wasn't sure he was ready to sit down—or, more to the point, get up again—so he stood next to their table, instead. "Dr. Chakwas wouldn't give me a mirror. She said I didn't want to know. Tell me, Shepard—how bad is it?"

She smiled and shrugged. "Hell, Garrus, you were always ugly. Slap some face paint on there and no one will even notice."

He chuckled at that, and then winced. "Ouch. Don't make me laugh, damn it. My face is barely holding together as it is."

"Who says I was joking?" She grinned at him. Shepard had some scars of her own, Garrus noticed. Leftovers from whatever had happened to her?

"You know, some women find facial scarring attractive," he pointed out. "Mind you, most of those women are krogan …"

"Yeah? Maybe we'll set a course for Tuchanka. I hear Wrex has pretty much taken over."

"That's what I heard, too. Hard to imagine Wrex in charge."

"Right?"

The bells whistled the change of the hour, and Jacob got to his feet. "I've got a few things left to do in the armory. I'll see you later, Commander. Garrus, glad to have you with us." His hand-shake seemed genuine. Garrus wondered if he had just been imagining the earlier hostility, or if that was simply Jacob's demeanor with strangers.

Either way, he was glad to be left alone with Shepard. "You going to tell me now how you ended up in the middle of my completely handled situation on Omega when I thought you were dead?"

"I saved your ass, Vakarian, and you know it." Shepard got to her feet. "Come on, I'll show you the forward battery."

"How did you know? I'm sure everything needs recalibrated."

"I'm sure it does," she agreed. "What did we ever do without you?"

"Well, fortunately, you don't have to find out."

Shepard stopped in the galley. "Rupert, someone I want you to meet. Rupert Gardner, this is Garrus Vakarian. Rupert's our new cook," she explained. Turning to the balding cook, she said, "You got those dextro supplies I had delivered from Omega?"

"Yep." He stepped forward to shake Garrus's hand. "I'm a bit rusty at the dextro stuff, so I'll take any pointers you have."

Garrus shook his head. "You don't want cooking advice from me, trust me. Field rations will do just fine."

"I think we can manage something better than that," Rupert said, "but I do have some nutrient paste for a backup, just in case."

"Works for me. Thanks."

"Anything for the Commander."

Garrus smiled as they left the galley. So she had made a conquest of the cook. No surprise there. Shepard took care of her people. That, at least, hadn't changed. Although the people were Cerberus hires, now, which must make some difference. Once they were alone in the forward battery, the doors sliding closed behind them, he said, "Cerberus, Shepard? Are you sure about this? I still can't get those experiments they were doing out of my head."

"Yeah, neither can I. Except that now I'm one of them." At his quizzical look, Shepard continued, "They found my body somehow after I got spaced, and through whatever miracles of technology they used, they rebuilt me. Completely. I've got some cybernetics, but … most of it is me. I don't know how, Garrus, but they brought me back to life, gave me another chance, and then they brought the _Normandy_ back, too—and all they're asking me to do is what I would have done anyway: look into the Collectors who are kidnapping human colonists. I have a free hand, apparently unlimited funding …"

"It sounds too good to be true."

"I know it does," she agreed. "Which is why I'm glad to have you here. The Illusive Man, who seems to be the head of Cerberus, gave me dossiers on who to recruit, but I don't think he knew who Archangel was." She took a step toward him, taking his hand. "If I'm walking into hell, I want someone I trust at my side."

If she only knew what hell truly had been—those days after she died. He would do anything to avoid that again, even work for Cerberus, as it turned out. Not that he was about to tell her that. Whatever his complicated set of emotions toward her might have been, they still couldn't go anywhere. No use in burdening her with them. He chuckled, carefully, avoiding moving his face as best as possible. "You realize this plan has me walking into hell, too?" He shook his head, taking his hand gently back from her. "Just like old times."

"I'd think a man who was willing to take on the Blue Suns, the Blood Pack, and Eclipse all at once would find a hell a charming vacation. What were you doing on Omega, anyway?"

"I got fed up with all the bureaucratic crap on the Citadel, and it didn't look like it would be much better if I went back to the turian military. So I struck out on my own. And where better to find a good clean-up job than Omega? Hell, all I had to do was point my gun and shoot."

"Apparently you did it pretty well, since you seemed to have pissed off every major merc organization in the Terminus Systems pretty thoroughly."

Garrus nodded, wincing as he thought of his team. "Yeah, we did some good work, really made a name for ourselves."

"Archangel, huh? You going to stick with that one?"

"The locals gave it to me, and I was happy to put my own aside for a while."

A voice erupted from a speaker behind him, crisp and cool. "News networks on Omega indicate that the gangs believe Archangel to be dead. I would recommend discontinuing use of the moniker."

Garrus jerked around, startled.

"Garrus, meet EDI," Shepard said. "She's our new AI."

"An AI? On the _Normandy_?"

"Yeah. Joker's fit to be tied."

"Joker's here, too?"

"It's the _Normandy_. Who else were they gonna get to fly her?"

"Well, when you put it that way."

"Mr. Moreau and I should eventually come to an amicable working arrangement," EDI said.

"You have more faith than I do," Shepard told her.

"Do you wish to discuss the human ability to get used to its surroundings?"

"No, EDI. Thank you."

"Very well." The speaker turned itself back off.

"Does that happen often?"

"Anytime she thinks she can add to the conversation. Lack of privacy does come with the Cerberus umbrella. Pretty sure they're reading my mail, too, which is why I haven't tried to contact my mother, or anyone else."

Was it Garrus's imagination, or did she hesitate before the "anyone else"? So Kaidan didn't know she was alive? Or was he already here? "Anyone else we know on board?"

"No, just Joker and Dr. Chakwas. There's a full complement of crew, including a couple of hotshots down in engineering who seem like they could give Tali a run for her money, and then you met Jacob and Mordin, so the only one you don't know yet is Miranda. She's the Cerberus operative who was in charge of bringing me back to life. Word of warning: She and Jacob are pretty gung-ho about Cerberus."

"Noted." He looked around him at the once-familiar equipment. "Looks like Cerberus has done some upgrading in here. Good. We can use it. I wonder if we can upgrade any further?" He wandered closer, focusing in on some of the details that were just a little bit off.

"Oh, no, you don't. Once you start in on the calibrations I won't get a word out of you. Come on, Vakarian, spill. How'd you end up on Omega at the wrong end of a bunch of merc guns?"

"Hm. You know, I thought I'd seen every weapon in the galaxy en route to take down Saren, but mercenary work sure showed me otherwise." He thought of the others and turned away so Shepard wouldn't see the pain on his face.

She saw anyway, her voice calling him back. "Tell me what happened."

"I tried C-Sec, and I went home to Palaven for a while, but I guess I'd gotten used to doing something with my life. So I went to Omega. It was filled with criminals nobody else could touch—and there was no red tape."

"Perfect for you, in other words."

"Exactly. And I … built a squad. Like you would have," he said softly, not wanting her to know what it had meant to him to be building a team in her honor.

"Doing what? It didn't sound like you were available for hire."

"Omega was full of thugs kicking the helpless. I formed my team in order to kick back. We stepped in wherever we were needed. We weren't mercenaries, not really, since no one was paying us. No shakedowns, no civilian casualties. We were there to make things better."

"Sounds ideal."

"Yeah, maybe we were a little idealistic—but every member of my team had lost someone to Omega's gangs. They had a reason to be there, a reason to be standing and fighting for what was right. And we did good work … for a while."

"How did you find them?"

He shrugged. "Apparently, once you prove that you can get things done, people join up. Mercs who wanted to atone, security consultants who were tired of playing by the rules, former military operatives, C-Sec agents. Twelve of us altogether. My explosives expert was salarian; pretty sure he'd been part of the Special Tasks Group. And my tech guy was batarian, believe it or not. Not the friendliest type, but he could hack any system ever built. They looked to me for leadership; I gave them hope. And now—" He couldn't go on, couldn't tell her how he had failed them.

"Garrus." Shepard pushed herself off the table and came toward him. "Tell me what happened. All of it."

"They're dead, Shepard. All right? I got them all killed."

"How?"

He looked at her, standing there. She was going to have it out of him eventually, he could see that, and part of him wanted to tell her, as much as the rest of him dreaded her knowing. "It was my fault," he said baldly. "My own damn fault. One—one of my team betrayed me. Betrayed us all. Sidonis; he was a fellow turian. He drew me away just before the mercs attacked the rest of the squad, then he disappeared." He clenched his fists. "Everyone except me is dead because of him. And because I didn't see it coming."

"Are you sure it was a betrayal?"

"I'm sure. He booked transport off of Omega just before the attack, and he cleaned out his bank accounts."

"I'm sorry, Garrus. I … know how hard it is to lose one person who counted on you. I can't imagine losing all of them. You—" She looked up at him, as if considering what to say. "You're one of the strongest people I've ever known to still be standing after that."

He wasn't strong; he had been trying to die, hoping the mercs would kill him. Didn't she know that? Only her presence had kept him alive, that and his determination to make Sidonis pay. "One day I'm going to find him, and … I won't be leaving him standing."

"Garrus." She wanted to protest, he could see that. Shepard had never been one for revenge.

Holding up a hand to keep her from saying anything further, he said, "I think I'm going to get to some of these calibrations, Shepard. I'll talk to you later."

Shepard hesitated, but apparently decided it wasn't worth arguing. "Sure. Enjoy your calibrating."

She left, and he found a task that needed doing and focused on it, glad to have work to do again, something to keep his mind occupied … and glad to be back aboard the _Normandy_. Nothing had made any sense without Shepard. Maybe now that she was back, he could find his way.


	11. Afraid

_Thank you for reading!_

* * *

"Joker. How are things?" Garrus asked, standing well back from the pilot's seat. Only Shepard could get away with standing right over his shoulder.

"Can't complain. Have you seen this chair? Leather! Fits me like a glove." Joker sighed happily. "This upgrade is almost perfect." He jerked a thumb in the direction of the glowing blue avatar that represented the ship's AI, and shook his head.

Garrus shrugged. He'd spoken with EDI once or twice since he'd come on board, and found her robotic but unoffensive. Then again, she wasn't stationed at his elbow while he was working … and he was considerably less protective of his guns than Joker was of the ship in general. "You'll get used to it."

"It's a hell of a lot better than being stuck in Alliance drydock, that's for sure." Joker frowned at something on his screen, sitting forward for a better view, then he punched a button, watched tensely for a moment, and relaxed back into the chair.

"How long have you known about … all this?"

"Not too long. I guess Cerberus recruited me about a year ago? Something like that. They told me they wanted a consultant on a new ship they were building—it was only after Shepard woke up that they told me they were rebuilding _the_ ship." He smiled. "I guess they figured I'd have busted something from excitement if they'd told me sooner."

He might have, Garrus thought. "And Shepard? When did you know they were rebuilding her?"

Joker swung his chair around. "I get you. Why didn't I tell anyone? Like you, and Alenko?"

"Something like that."

"Because Cerberus would have had my head, that's why. It's super hush-hush, naturally, when you bring the Savior of the Citadel back from the dead."

"'Super hush-hush' and not telling her best friends are two different things. Does Liara know?"

"Probably, but not from me."

"So you were a good little soldier."

Joker rolled his eyes in the direction of EDI's avatar. "If I had tried, you think the information would have gone through? I don't."

"Cerberus had a vested interest in Commander Shepard's resurrection remaining confidential," EDI said. "You should understand that, Mr. Moreau."

"I do. Which is why I never tried to contact anyone. Keep up, EDI," Joker snapped. He swung his chair back around, the silence heavy in the cockpit.

"I understand," Garrus said to the back of the chair, taking his leave. Joker had always been temperamental, but the AI was making it worse, definitely.

He went through the CIC, noting that Shepard wasn't there, pacing in front of the galaxy map. Possibly that had to do with Yeoman Chambers at her usual post, fingers tapping away at her keyboard. Shepard didn't like having her every move monitored any more than Joker did, and it was clear that Chambers was there as much to keep an eye on all of them for the Illusive Man as she was in any kind of administrative or counseling capacity. Garrus wasn't sure about this human insistence on working through your feelings, anyway. You took your feelings to the battlefield, and you worked through them with bullets flying into the oncoming enemy. That was the turian way. His one conversation with Chambers had convinced him that her training in the psychology of non-humans had been scanty at best; he didn't think he would be making use of her services during this trip.

As he went through the weapons locker, Jacob gave him a brief, not particularly friendly, glance and an even briefer nod. Garrus returned the nod with a deliberately courteous one of his own. He wasn't sure if the human's hostility was because of Garrus's species, or because Garrus was Shepard's friend. Mordin Solus was the only other non-human aboard at the moment, although they were en route to pick up a krogan warlord, but Mordin kept himself to himself, busy in his lab. Garrus was more out and about, trying to figure out what Cerberus's angle was and if they, and the mission, could be trusted. As for being Shepard's friend, Garrus couldn't help that, and he was glad to be aboard for her sake as much as for his own—she needed someone here who was looking out for her well-being. Miranda kept an eye on Shepard, but it was a clinical eye, not one that worried if Shepard was getting enough to eat, or sleeping enough. And Dr. Chakwas had her hands full with the entire ship's medical concerns; she didn't have time to watch Shepard specifically.

But Garrus did, and he didn't like what he saw. Shepard had always pushed herself, but now it was harder, less forgiving. More as though she wanted to punish herself. And it concerned him.

As he had expected, she was in the shooting range. He crossed his arms and watched her, noting with approval that she was still using all the things he had taught her on the original _Normandy_. Proof, if he had needed it, that she was Shepard and not a clone with a rudimentary upload of Shepard's memories.

He let her aim and fire a few more shots before leaning forward and keying the intercom. "You're still dropping that shoulder when you're tired."

"I'm not tired."

"Please. Try that on someone who doesn't know you. When was the last time you got a full night's sleep?"

"I was asleep for two years, Garrus! That's enough to hold me for a long time."

Seeing that she had put the gun down, he buzzed himself into the range, standing over her. "You know none of that was your fault, don't you?"

"It wasn't my choice, either."

"Which part?"

She frowned up at him. "I didn't want to die, Garrus. But I also didn't want to let Joker die. If I had it to do again, I would do it again, just the same."

"But you wish they hadn't brought you back?"

"Yes! No. I don't know." She sighed. "So many people have already been lost, and we don't have any idea what's going on over on the other side of the Omega 4; what if they're all already dead? What if this is doomed before we start? It just … where is the Alliance in all this? Where's the Council? Burying their heads in the sand, again, pretending everything's going to be fine, and here I am over here doing all the work for them. Again. And for what, just so I can die again?"

"So you work your fingers to the bone trying to prove … what, exactly?"

Shepard shook her head, smiling a little. "I don't know. Maybe it's less that I'm trying to prove something and more that I just don't dare stop to think, or maybe I can't do it at all."

"I hear Daniels and Donnelly have a weekly Skyllian Five game."

"I'm just supposed to sit and play cards while people are dying?"

"Shepard." He hesitated, then used her first name for the first time since they had been reunited. "Zia." He caught her by the shoulders, holding her still as he looked down into her brown eyes. "People are dying across the galaxy all the time. One by one or collectively, you can't keep people from dying. You are trying to save those you can save, and that's laudable, but if you don't stop to laugh, or rest, or eat, or spend time with friends, then what's the point? Your exhaustion won't save anyone, and it won't atone for the lives you couldn't save. It will only imperil the ones who are waiting on you, and those who accompany you in the process."

She wanted to argue, he could see that, but instead she blinked and looked away, sighing. "I know you're right. I just can't seem to be able to close my eyes without seeing …"

"People in pain?"

"Nothing," she corrected. "I see nothing. And I spent two years seeing nothing, thinking nothing, feeling nothing—knowing nothing. I don't want to go back to that."

The truth dawned on him suddenly. "Are you afraid if you go to sleep you won't wake up?"

The pain in her face told him he had it right. "Silly, isn't it? But … yes."

"Not silly at all. Look, though—look around you. This ship is recreated down to the last detail. You are recreated down to the last detail … as far as I can tell, at least. Cerberus put a lot of time and money into you. You think they'd do that just to let you go again? Not a chance."

"I suppose."

"Hey." Garrus put a finger under her chin and tipped it up so she was looking into his eyes. "I'm not going to let that happen, all right? I will personally stand over Miranda with a gun to her head until you're up and about again if anything happens to you. I promise."

Zia managed a smile. "You know that sounds terribly creepy, right?"

He chuckled, glad to see some humor brightening her eyes again. "Maybe so—but I'd do it anyway."

"Thank you."

"Anytime. Now, will you go and get some rest, or at least something to eat?"

"Only if you come with me."

"Deal."


	12. The Way It Went Down

_Thank you for reading!_

* * *

Garrus leaned against the wall just inside the door of the cockpit, watching the blur of light as the stars hurtled past the windows. After Horizon, it was good to be on the move, good to know they were doing something against the Collectors. All those humans in stasis; all the pods being taken away by the bug-like creatures, amidst the eeriness of those empty dwellings whose inhabitants had simply been … collected—those were images that would stay with him, he could tell.

Shepard had even more reason to be glad to leave Horizon behind her, and he watched her now as she gripped the back of Joker's seat, leaning tensely forward as she, too, stared out the windows.

"Shepard. You want to let go of my chair? Hard to steer when the seat is twitching."

"Sorry."

There was a silence in the cockpit as Joker adjusted his chair and took a fresh grip on the controls. He leaned back with a sigh. Much as the pilot's comments about the leather seat were facetious, it seemed clear that Cerberus had designed it with his Vrolik's Syndrome in mind—he was notably in better health piloting from this seat tban he had been in the original _Normandy_.

"So, Commander," Joker began. "Pretty crazy the people you run into around the galaxy, huh?"

Garrus winced. To the best of his knowledge, no one had broached the topic of Kaidan with Shepard since they'd returned from Horizon—other than Chambers, and with Chambers Shepard had been bland and dismissive. Someone needed to talk to her, someone she might actually talk to, and he had considered doing it himself, but he didn't think he was the right person to touch what she must be feeling after Kaidan's cutting words. Joker might just have the right approach. Garrus thought about leaving the cockpit and letting them talk in private, but thought he might draw more attention to himself by leaving than he would by staying.

"You think it was an Alliance setup that Kaidan—er, Staff Commander Alenko was there?" Joker asked.

"Yeah, I think it was probably a setup. Although whether it was Alliance or someone else …" Shepard let the comment lie, glancing toward EDI's avatar. The AI stayed silent. "Still, it was good to see Kaidan. We talked. It was nice."

"Nice?" Joker echoed skeptically.

"Yeah. Things have changed. We … let it go."

The pain was evident in her voice, as evident as it had been on her face when Kaidan turned his back on her. But neither Garrus nor Joker called her on it. If she wanted to pretend it had been mutual, maybe that was how she needed to approach it.

"Oh, good," Joker said with relief. Maybe he was actually buying that load of hooey, Garrus thought in surprise. "I was not looking forward to your mood if that went bad, Commander. There's a reason I don't date crew."

Shepard smiled at that, and Garrus was damned glad to see it. "Yeah, Joker? Who do you date?"

He chuckled. "That's for me to know and … nosy Cerberus to find out," he finished with a sour glance at EDI.

"We are not interested in your private life, Mr. Moreau," the AI told him primly.

"Sure you're not."

Shepard shook her head. "On that note, I think I'll go check my gear. I think I saw a crack in one of my gloves after we got back from that last mission."

She didn't glance at Garrus as she left the cockpit; her brown eyes were cast down, watching her feet. He knew if she had looked up, he'd have seen the hurt and bewilderment that had been there ever since they left Horizon, and he felt helpless, not knowing how to help her get rid of all that pain.

When she was gone, Joker spoke up. "Garrus."

"Yeah."

"That really the way it went down, all that 'we let each other go' crap?"

"Hardly." He felt the hard edge of anger rise in him again as he thought of it. "Kaidan laid into her about not being in touch, and about Cerberus, and … He did a lot of talking, and as far as I can tell, no listening at all. And it didn't help that the whole thing felt like someone had put him there especially to draw Shepard—and the Collectors—to the planet."

"So you're saying she's going to feel a whole truckload of guilt on top of everything else?"

"That sounds about right, yeah." Garrus shook his head. "Like she needed that."

"Would it help if you knew that Staff Commander Alenko has sent her an email?" EDI asked.

"Only if we knew what was in it."

"Joker," Garrus said. He wanted to know, but that was … well, they shouldn't even know such an email existed, much less what was in it.

"Yeah, I know. Still …"

"Still," Garrus agreed. He had restrained himself from going after Kaidan on Horizon and slugging him right on that dimpled chin only because he knew it would have hurt Shepard. "He was more interested in lecturing her about Cerberus than he was in being grateful she was alive."

"That sucks."

"He stood right there in the midst of the ruin of what had been a thriving colony ten minutes before and accused her of letting Cerberus brainwash her." Garrus was getting more and more angry as he thought about it. "Or of not thinking straight out of gratitude."

He was so focused on that anger, Joker's next question took him by surprise. "So what are you going to do?"

"What am I going to do?" he repeated, confused.

"Yeah. You're her best friend. And you want to be more."

Garrus refused to dignify that with a response.

"Glad you're not going to bother denying it."

"The last thing she wants is someone trying to talk her through her feelings."

"Tell Chambers that."

"Telling Chambers to back off is a waste of breath. Even Shepard knows that."

"Fine, then. Let's give her something to fight."

Garrus nodded. "That's the best idea you've had since you folded the full house against Wrex's pair of aces." He and Joker both grinned at the memory. Wrex had been about to tear Joker's head off before the pilot let the krogan win.

"It seems relevant to the conversation to tell you that Commander Shepard has just awakened the krogan," EDI said.

"She what?"

"She didn't." Joker groaned. "What am I saying, of course she did."

EDI remarked, "She seems to be holding her own very well. Yes, he has backed off before she was required to shoot him."

"Well, we might as well take him out and see how he fights," Garrus said.

"There is a Blue Suns facility on a nearby planet," EDI told him. "Would that be a suitable destination? Yes," she reported after a brief pause. "Commander Shepard approves. She says to suit up, Mr. Vakarian."

"Garrus, please, EDI. Tell her I'm on my way." He left the cockpit, glad that Shepard had found a way to deal with her Kaidan-related feelings on her own, since he still didn't know what to say to her about it.


	13. Some Important Calibrations

_Thank you for reading!_

* * *

The door of the forward battery slid shut behind Shepard, and she crossed the room to stand over Garrus, watching intently as he adjusted the fit of a coupling. He glanced up at her. "Something on your mind, Shepard?"

"I was just going to ask you the same question. Just … wanted to check in with you and see how you're doing."

"Oh. Fine, really." He frowned at the coupling, the wrench suddenly slippery in his fingers. "Um … can this wait for a bit? I was just in the middle of some calibrations."

There was a pause, and a faint sigh that she clearly tried to stifle, then she said, "Sure. I'll see you later."

As she headed for the door, he called over his shoulder, "I'll be here if you need me."

Garrus turned his attention back to the coupling. Something seemed off, though, and he lifted his head, looking toward the door, to see that it still stood open, with Shepard stopped in the middle of the doorway. As he looked at her, she turned back in his direction, her face like a thundercloud.

"Shepard?" he asked hesitantly, unsure what he had done to make her angry.

"You're such a liar, Vakarian."

"I am?"

"Yes. You say that all the time—'I'll be here if you need me'—but when I actually come here looking for you, it's 'oh, I'm in the middle of some calibrations, Shepard'; 'Come back later, Shepard'; 'Not right now, Shepard'. So which is it? Are you here when I need you, or are you really only here to calibrate the damned guns?"

Garrus was stricken. He hadn't realized how often he did that, apparently. And how could he tell her that sometimes he pushed her away when he could tell she wanted to talk because he was afraid he didn't know what to say—and equally afraid of all the things he might say in an unguarded moment?

"Well?" Shepard demanded. "Are you just going to sit there? Surely you have some important calibrations to do."

He put the wrench down on his worktable. "No, I'm done for now."

"Please, don't let me rush you."

"Zia. What's this really about?"

Her lips tightened, and she looked away, studying the doorway intently to avoid meeting his eyes.

"Kaidan?" he hazarded, not that it required much work to guess.

"Damn it," she hissed under her breath. "I should be past this by now."

"Should you? It was, what, three days ago? I would have thought even you would cut yourself more slack than that."

She lifted her hands and rubbed them across her face. "There are so many more important things to consider."

"Sure," Garrus agreed. "Plenty of them. But … nothing that cuts as close. It's—well, it's similar to losing Ash, isn't it?"

Zia winced, but she thought about it. "I suppose you can look at it that way. I certainly have lost a crewmate and a friend."

"He should have given you the benefit of the doubt."

She shrugged wearily. "Should he? There I am, with you in tow, alive when he knew I had died. He didn't know I had tried to get in touch with him and been kept from it by the Alliance."

"He could have guessed," Garrus pointed out.

"He probably did when he had time to think about it. But he'd lost friends that day. Surely not everyone on Horizon thought of him the way that guy Delan did; some of them must have liked him, had him over to watch the game. He … mentioned moving on—maybe he had moved on with someone on Horizon who was taken by the Collectors."

"Does that bother you?"

"No! Definitely not. I wouldn't have wanted anyone's life to be ruined because I—died."

 _If only she knew_ , Garrus thought. Not that he would ever tell her.

"I'm glad he moved on," Shepard continued earnestly. "But … for all that, not to even let me explain, to cut me off the way he did, to—I have never in my life refused to listen to someone who wanted to explain something to me."

That was true; she was unbelievably patient and willing to listen at all times. Garrus had often speculated whether that was the secret to her incredible successes. Even Saren had been drawn to talk to her at the end, albeit long after it was too late to matter. "You know that's not normal, right?"

Shepard sighed. "I suppose not. But … I expected better from Kaidan."

"I did, too," he assured her. "I'd have thought he would give you the benefit of the doubt."

"So you said. But clearly he wasn't willing to have faith in either of us," she said bitterly. "You know he emailed me?"

Garrus braced himself for whatever insensitive thing his former comrade might have said. "And?"

"And he said he was too afraid to let himself believe—or words to that effect."

Little as he wanted to defend Kaidan after the scene on Horizon, Garrus felt she wasn't being entirely fair. None of them had reacted well to her death … and since Kaidan had lost the most, it had hit him hardest. "It was a pretty hard blow for him when you died."

"Yeah? It was kind of a blow to me, too."

He winced at her sarcasm. "I know."

"Do you?" She looked at him, at the scars on the side of his face, and her anger subsided. "I suppose you do." Some of the tension eased out of her, and she leaned against the doorframe, her face softening. "I'm sorry, Garrus. You didn't deserve that."

He shrugged. "I do a lot of calibrating. I can stand to take more breaks—especially if you need something." He was going toward her now, his legs moving of their own volition. He put his hands on her shoulders. "Zia."

Her brown eyes looked up at him questioningly.

"I am here for you. You know that, right? Whatever you need, whenever you need it?"

She smiled, forgiving him. "Unless there's important calibrating to do."

"Well, these guns aren't going to calibrate themselves."

"Give EDI time, she'll figure out how."

"Garrus is much more efficient at this task," EDI's voice broke in. "I would never dream of challenging his expertise."

"EDI," Shepard said sharply. "There's a time to listen in, and there's a time not to."

There was a pause, and then the AI said, "I will give that some thought. Perhaps I can develop an algorithm to tell me which is which."

"Good luck with that." Shepard looked up at Garrus, rolling her eyes, and smiled again. "Thanks, Garrus."

"Anytime. Consider me your punching bag."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Maybe I will. Think you could take me, Vakarian?"

"Oh, I know better than to get drawn into that conversation," he said hastily.

"Good. Commander Shepard is mighty and indomitable, remember?"

"Yes, I'm sure I heard that on a news vid somewhere."

She chuckled, turning to go. Her shoulders were straight and there was a bounce in her step, he noticed. Well, if yelling at him was what it took to brighten her mood, she could do it twice a day, as far as he was concerned, Garrus thought, letting the doors slide closed. And he would have to have a few choice words with his old friend Kaidan before the two of them were in the same room together again.


	14. Enough Time

_Thank you for reading!_

* * *

It came as no surprise to Garrus when Shepard charmed her way across Tuchanka. Charming a krogan wasn't easily done, and required a certain toughness that many people wouldn't have thought was in Shepard's arsenal, small and delicate-looking as she was, easily as she schmoozed asari and salarians and other humans. But she walked among them like she was as big and as long-lived and as indestructible as any of them. The fact that she was clearly in the favor of Wrex, who was now the leader of the most powerful clan on Tuchanka, had helped as well.

Wrex even deigned to accompany them back to the shuttle, along with the newest member of Wrex's Urdnot clan, the tank-bred krogan Grunt whom Shepard had awakened.

"All right, stripling. Don't let Shepard get killed, take down your enemies with enthusiasm, and remember you're a krogan."

"Yes, Clan leader." Grunt had turned down the opportunity to stay and be part of the clan in order to remain with Shepard, telling Wrex that as a battlemaster, she had no equal. Wrex hadn't disagreed. Garrus thought the big scarred krogan was a little jealous that the young one got to fly off into the galaxy and go kill things while he was stuck in the middle of a political nightmare on Tuchanka.

Wrex turned to Garrus, punching him in the arm. "Garrus."

Garrus returned the gesture. "Wrex."

"See you around."

"Not if I see you first."

Wrex grunted in amusement, or possibly agreement, and turned to Shepard. She was looking up at Wrex with affection, almost as if she'd like to hug him. Wrex looked back at her with the same half-longing expression. "Shepard. No more dying, all right?" he said gruffly.

She smiled. "I'll do my best. You, too."

"Yeah. I'm too tough to die."

He watched them as they climbed aboard the shuttle. As it lifted off, Garrus chuckled. "Who would have thought Wrex, of all people, would be the one to bring the krogan together?"

Shepard shrugged. "I'm not surprised. He always had leadership qualities."

"Did he? You mean when he cheated at Skyllian poker, or when he caused an explosion in the mess hall trying to make a Tuchankan delicacy, or when he almost shot you on Virmire?"

"Well, if you'll remember, you guys always let him win the poker games, he got one of the ensigns to step in and make his delicacy for him, and in the end, he saw reason on Virmire."

"That sneaky bastard. He did always win."

Grunt and Shepard both laughed.

When the shuttle landed, Grunt returned to his quarters on the engineering deck, but Garrus took the elevator with Shepard up to the CIC. Chambers, perky as always, greeted Shepard with the rundown of news and onboard reports from her time planetside, and added, "And you have new mail on your private server, Commander."

"Thank you, Chambers." Shepard spoke evenly, but Garrus could hear the way her teeth clenched. He couldn't blame her—if Chambers was so openly monitoring his email, he would have decked her. But Shepard figured Chambers was the price she paid to Cerberus for an otherwise free hand, so she had to put up with it. Shepard gestured to Garrus to precede her onto the elevator, punching the button to go up to her private quarters. When the doors closed behind them, she leaned back against the wall. "Some day, I am going to throw that woman out the airlock."

"Don't let EDI hear you say that," Garrus teased.

"Commander, is this one of those conversations that it is not time to listen in on?" the AI inquired.

"Yes, EDI. It really is. And no, I'm not actually going to throw Chambers out the airlock."

"Thank you for the confirmation." EDI clicked off, and Garrus and Shepard looked at each other and laughed.

He followed her off the elevator, glad to see her relaxing and loosening up. Horizon, and after that the derelict Collector ship the Illusive Man had lured them onto, had taken their toll on Shepard, but Tuchanka, and Wrex, had been good for her. Garrus paused as Shepard keyed her code in to the door of her quarters. "Shepard. Did you need me for something?"

"What? Oh. No, I just wanted someone to roll my eyes at over Chambers." She hesitated, then added, "Since you're up here, why don't you come in for a while, though? It was nice to see Wrex again—made me think I don't spend enough time with the people around me."

"Sure." He wasn't really so sure. Being alone with her in her quarters seemed surprisingly intimate, and he didn't want any rumors to begin about the two of them that might be embarrassing for her and uncomfortable for him … but they were different species, after all, he reminded himself. Regardless of the feelings for her that he couldn't seem to squash, they probably weren't compatible.

"Let me just check this email, if you don't mind."

"Go ahead." He wandered over to the fish tank, watching the creatures swim. "Why do you have fish?"

"I have no idea. Cerberus put the tank in here, not sure why, and then I got so tired of looking at it empty I bought the fish. Mostly they're annoying—I keep forgetting to feed them and then having to clean out the dead ones and buy more." She chuckled. "It's probably some high level psychological test the Illusive Man is running on me."

"I wouldn't put it past him." Garrus watched one dart behind a plant of some kind.

Behind him, he heard Shepard gasp.

"Everything all right?"

"My mother. Anderson must have put her in touch with me. She's mad at me for not contacting her myself, but figures it's a Spectre op." She glanced over at Garrus. "Have you heard from your father?"

"You mean, since I abandoned everything a well-brought-up turian should be to become a merc on Omega, or since I got myself mixed up with that human Spectre and her 'shipful of miscreants'?"

"So you have."

Garrus nodded. "Regularly. He doesn't want me to forget what I owe my people."

"What about what you owe the galaxy?"

"Palaven is the galaxy, didn't you know?" He shook his head. "Never mind. This is where I want to be. It doesn't matter what he says."

Her brown eyes warmed. "For the record, this is where I want you to be, too."

Garrus's heart thudded against his ribcage. For the moment he forgot about the differences in their species and the probable mismatch of their anatomy and let himself wonder if just maybe— _Stop that, Vakarian. Be her friend. That's what she needs._ He forced a smile to his eyes. "Good. Glad to hear it. Now, didn't you say you wanted me to teach you Skyllian poker?"

She grinned. "Who says I don't already know? Wrex taught me."

"Great. There goes the furniture."


	15. An Eye for an Eye

_Thank you for reading!_

* * *

Garrus stared at the screen in front of him, feeling his heart pound heavily in his chest. After all this time, was this it? Had he found his way to Sidonis?

Fade. He had heard of the man through his contacts on the Citadel—surely Shepard could help find him. She had to. She of all people would understand how badly he needed this, how desperately he needed to take revenge on the man who had betrayed him, cost the lives of the rest of the team.

Snapping shut his private terminal, he stormed out of the gunnery bay in search of Shepard, finding her just coming out of life support. She had been visiting Thane, a fact that gave Garrus only momentary pause. The drell was certainly attractive to women, but he'd shown no interest in Zia thus far, not that way. And after all, Garrus wanted Zia to be happy. At least, that's what he told himself.

The momentary distraction was quickly swallowed up in the more pressing issue. "Shepard. I'm glad I caught you."

"It's a small ship, Garrus. I'm not that hard to find."

"You'd be surprised."

She smiled. "Maybe I would. What's on your mind?"

He glanced around quickly, ushering her into the elevator for greater privacy. As the doors closed, he said, "You remember I told you about Sidonis?"

"Yes."

"I've got something. I found a lead on him. I—" He hesitated, knowing she would never approve of what he really wanted, which was to gun Sidonis down in cold blood. "I may need your help."

"You did? Where is he?"

"On the Citadel."

Shepard frowned. "That's where someone who knows you're hunting him went to ground? On the Citadel? I don't think much of his brains."

Garrus nodded to accept the implied compliment. "He's not planning to stay. There's a specialist on the Citadel, goes by the name of Fade, who is an expert at helping people disappear. Sidonis was last seen with him. I'm sure he's just waiting for Fade to get him the right paperwork and then he'll be gone for good." His fist clenched of its own volition. "I can't let that happen."

The elevator stopped at the CIC, but Shepard reached out and impatiently punched another button, sending it up to the top, to her own quarters. She ushered Garrus inside and turned to face him. "Please, tell me what happened. All of it. I know it's painful, but if I'm going to help you, I need to know."

He looked away, at the fish swimming about in the tank. "He tipped off the mercs. He told them where our base was. I—should have seen it coming."

"You can't always know what people are thinking."

"I should have sensed it," Garrus contradicted her. "He drew me away, you see, just me, on a false job. I should've been suspicious that it only required the two of us. And while he had me away from the base, the mercs hit the rest of the team." He could see them in his mind's eye, the carnage he had found when he went back to the base, Sidonis's pretense of anger and outrage. Garrus barely restrained himself from punching the glass wall of the aquarium. "My men," he said, his voice only a whisper past the painful lump in the back of his throat, "they weren't prepared. Not at all. They tried to hold the mercs off, but—"

Two small, soft hands closed on his arms from behind. "Garrus, I'm sorry."

He shook her off; he didn't deserve her compassion, couldn't accept it. "By the time I got back, there were only two survivors, and they—they didn't last long. All ten of them, my whole squad, dead. Because of him."

"When you find Sidonis, what are you planning to do?" She had retreated to the other side of the room, standing near her desk. Her tone said she already knew. She could hear it in his voice, he imagined.

"You humans have a saying: 'an eye for an eye'. A life for a life. Or in his case, for ten lives. It's not enough, but it will have to do."

"Garrus."

"Shepard. He owes me ten lives, and I plan to collect."

"Are you absolutely sure that's how you want to play it?"

He whirled around and glared at her. "I'm sure. I've thought about this over and over. He needs to die for what he did." With an effort, he forced himself to calm down. "Look, Shepard, I don't need you to agree with me; I just need you to help me track him down. Please."

"If I agree to do this, you have to do something for me."

Garrus hesitated. Knowing her, it could be anything. But he trusted her, and he knew she would stick to her word and only help if he agreed. "All right."

"Come here and read this email."

That, he hadn't expected. He joined her in front of her terminal, bending over to read the email she had open on the screen. It was from Nalah Butler, whose husband had been part of Garrus's squad. Raymond Butler had been a full-on nerd when Garrus met him, more comfortable with a keyboard than a gun, and by the end—well, there were few people Garrus would rather have had at his back. He'd had a drive to help people and a determination to learn how to do it. And Nalah—they had been so in love. That this woman who had lost her husband to Garrus's carelessness was now emailing Shepard to ask Shepard to take care of Garrus …

He blinked hot tears away.

"He was proud to work with you, Garrus. He died with honor. His wife wouldn't want you to take out his killer this way—not in cold blood, without … without any of the justice her husband died for," Shepard said softly.

The ache was back in his throat as he straightened up, staring at the model of the Citadel hanging over Shepard's desk. He hardly recognized his own voice when it came out, so hard and yet so full of pain. "Will you help me or not?"

Shepard sighed. After a moment, she said, "Where do we find him?"

"I can arrange a meeting when I know when we'll be going to the Citadel."

"All right." Her head was down, studying her screen, a clear signal that she was done talking to him.

Garrus turned to go, not wanting to push her any further, but he stopped in the doorway. "Zia. Thank you for agreeing to help me."

"You know I'll do whatever I can for you, Garrus." The end of her sentence, the part that started with "but" and ended with her asking him to reconsider, hung almost palpably in the air, but she didn't say it.


	16. Fade

_Thank you for reading!_

* * *

On the Citadel, the usually useful Captain Bailey was able to tell them very little about Fade, except that he was affiliated with the Blue Suns. Shepard appeared to think that should give Garrus pause, but he didn't care. If he had to take out every single Blue Suns member on the Citadel, that was what he would do.

"Where is he?" Garrus demanded, leaning over Bailey's desk.

To his credit, Bailey neither flinched nor got defensive. "If I knew that, he'd be in a cell."

Garrus growled in frustration, turning away.

"Can you point us in the direction of any of Fade's associates?" Shepard asked.

"There's a warehouse in the marketplace—we think Fade has contacts there. He's been elusive so far." A frown crossed Bailey's face. "It's possible he has someone inside C-Sec feeding him information. I don't mind telling you that any dents you can make in his system would be very much appreciated."

Shepard appeared moved by that, and Garrus should have been, but all he could think of was Sidonis, and putting a bullet in that bastard's eye once and for all. He paced back and forth while Shepard finished up her conversation with Bailey, and hurried on ahead to the warehouse—a known gang spot even when he worked here—so fast she could barely keep up.

He was startled to find a volus claiming to be Fade. Not that the volus weren't occasionally shady, but they were also rarely masters of subtlety. They hid in plain sight, protected by legal loopholes and bank accounts, more often than not. The volus was backed by two intimidating-seeming krogan, but they both backed down after one of Shepard's trademark looks, neither of them wanting to go up against her in the middle of the Citadel.

The volus looked after them worriedly, then back at Shepard. "So, which one of you wants to disappear?"

"We'd rather see you make someone reappear," Garrus told him.

"That's … not really the service we provide."

"Make an exception." Rapidly losing what little patience he had started with, Garrus drew his weapon and pointed it at the volus.

"Damn it."

"Look, you give us some information about a client of yours, and we disappear like we've never been here," Shepard suggested. "Or, you could not give us any information." She gestured toward Garrus's drawn weapon.

The volus sighed. "Not my client. I'm not Fade. I just work for him."

"I knew it," Garrus snapped. His finger tightened ever so slightly on the trigger. "So tell us where to find Fade."

The volus weren't known for their willingness to brave potential bodily harm for their partners, and this one was no exception. "The old prefab foundry in the factory district."

"Yeah, I've been there."

"He's got a lot of mercs there. Blue Suns," the volus offered, trying to be helpful. "Harkin thinks they're protecting him."

"Harkin?" Garrus echoed, remembering the drunken sot from his old C-Sec days. "Harkin is Fade?"

"He got fired from C-Sec; now he's making money exploiting the system."

"Yeah, that sounds like Harkin." Garrus put his gun away and the volus scurried off. Turning to Shepard, Garrus said, "Harkin and Sidonis in the same day. Lucky me."

"Lucky you," Shepard echoed, following him to the nearest cab stand, but she didn't seem to believe it.

Harkin was in the warehouse, all right, but he fled as soon as he recognized Garrus and Shepard, leaving a warehouse full of mercs and mechs for them to deal with. Shepard was cool and collected at his side, but Garrus felt the bloodlust of battle rising in him, and he made short work of everyone who got in his way.

They closed in rapidly—more rapidly than Harkin had expected, it seemed, because he hadn't planned a back exit from the foundry. He was holed up in the control room at the back.

Crouching down behind some crates, Garrus said, "Harkin's never given a straight answer to a question in his life … but he will today."

"He will?"

"Yes. Because if he doesn't, I'll beat him within an inch of his life."

"Garrus."

"Shepard, Harkin may know why Sidonis wanted to disappear. If so, he knows what we've come for. If we don't get up there, he might tip Sidonis off. And if Sidonis runs again, who knows how long it will be before I track him down again? I can't risk it." He racked another heat sink into his gun. "Besides, he's working for the Blue Suns now. I could just shoot him on sight."

"Garrus!"

"Don't worry, I won't do any permanent damage. I need him alive, after all."

Shepard was looking at him with mingled worry and disappointment. "You don't need him hurt to get what you want."

Garrus waved her concerns away. "He's a coward, anyway. Just the threat will probably be enough."

"I hope so." She hesitated, then asked, "Are you still planning to kill Sidonis when you find him?"

"That's the plan." He had intended to stop with that, but his mouth just kept going. "Unlike everyone he betrayed, his death will be quick and painless. It's more than he deserves, but as long as he's dead, I'll be satisfied."

"Will you?" Shepard's hand was on his arm, and she was looking up into his face earnestly. "Will killing Sidonis really make things right for you?"

Somewhere within Garrus was an uneasy suspicion that she might have a point, but he forced the thought away. "As close as they'll get. Come on." He navigated around the corner of the crate and continued his progress across the facility in the direction of Harkin's refuge.

At last they made it to the office, and Garrus took pleasure in kicking down the door and bursting in on Harkin with his gun drawn. True to form, Harkin tried to run, but Garrus caught him with an arm across his throat. "So, Fade … couldn't make yourself disappear, huh?"

"Garrus!" Harkin said weakly. "Fancy meeting you back on the Citadel. What can I do for you?"

Pressing harder, Garrus barked, "Sidonis. Turian. Came from—"

"Yeah, I know who he is. Look, I don't give out client information. It's bad for business."

"You think you're still in business?" Shepard asked.

Harkin looked from Garrus, who still had his arm across Harkin's windpipe, to Shepard, whose hand was on her gun, and sighed. "Fine."

Garrus was almost disappointed at how easily the man had folded. He wanted to beat him, kick him, put his foot on Harkin's throat.

"I'll set up a meeting."

"You do that." With an effort, Garrus took his arm off the man's throat and stepped back, watching as Harkin crossed to a terminal and spoke to someone, setting up the meeting as he had promised. As the conversation went on, Garrus pulled his pistol, looking at it speculatively. The Citadel would never miss this little weasel. It would be so easy.

Shutting off the terminal, Harkin gave them the meeting coordinates. "So, if our business is done …"

"Not a chance, Harkin," Shepard said, but before she could take a step toward him, Garrus had the gun ready, finger on the trigger.

"You're a criminal now," Garrus pointed out. "I am entirely within my rights to—"

"You're just going to kill me? That's not your style, Garrus."

Shepard's disapproval and worry next to him were almost palpable. It wasn't worth it—Harkin wasn't worth it. Garrus shook his head. "Not kill you … but slow you down a little."

Before he could shoot, Shepard pushed his arm out of the way. "You don't need to shoot him. C-Sec's on their way. They'll take care of him."

"Yeah. They'll take care of me," Harkin agreed hastily.

"Trust me, they have their orders. Straight from a Council Spectre," Shepard told him. "You're not getting out so easily this time, Fade."

"Thanks. I think." Harkin shook his head even as C-Sec officers entered the office to take him into custody. Garrus paid no attention to them—he had a meeting to get to, one he'd been waiting a long time for.


	17. For Them

_Thank you for reading! No update again next week, but I'll be back on schedule the week after._

* * *

The drive to the meeting site was tense. Shepard wasn't talking, and Garrus was so angry—with Harkin, with Sidonis, with himself, with her—that he didn't know where to start.

"I'm glad you didn't kill Harkin," Shepard said at last.

"Are you? Why? Because he's such a benefit to society?" he asked acidly.

Shepard looked at him, her big brown eyes wide and worried.

"Don't look at me like that. I'm fine."

She didn't look away.

"What do you want from me, Shepard?" Garrus demanded. "What would you do if someone betrayed you? Someone you trusted? And the people who got hurt were people you had promised to protect? What would you do?"

Her mouth tightened as if in pain as she considered the question. "I'm not sure," she admitted at last. "But I wouldn't let it change me."

"Wouldn't you? How noble. Spoken by someone who's never had it happen to them."

Shepard winced, the tone and the words striking her as he had intended them to. "It's not too late, Garrus. You don't have to do this."

"Yes, I do. Who's going to bring Sidonis to justice if I don't? Nobody else knows or cares what he did." He couldn't help seeing it all over again in his mind's eye. The bodies, the blood … all of it. "He screwed us—he deserves to die," he said viciously.

"I understand. I really do. But taking justice into your own hands—that never goes well."

"Look, Shepard, I appreciate your concern, but I'm not you."

"You're not yourself, either."

"Really? I think I'm completely myself. I've always hated injustice. The thought that Sidonis could get away with this … Why should he go on living after he caused ten good people to lose their lives?" He piloted the car into the docking station, and turned to look at her. "Look, I need to set up. Are you going to help me, or not?"

There was no hesitation in her, and he appreciated that. "I'm going to help you."

"Good. Keep him talking, but don't get in my way. I'll let you know when he's in my sights."

Garrus found his position. He'd carefully set the meeting place, knowing he'd have a good view from the catwalk, and a quick exit once Sidonis was down. He assembled the rifle, sighting down it, then hit his comm link. "Shepard, I'm set. Can you hear me?"

"Loud and clear."

Through the scope, Garrus studied everyone he could see. What would Sidonis look like? Would he be fat and prosperous? Sleek and pompous? Self-satisfied and grandiose?

He wasn't prepared for what he saw, the furtive, frightened man darting out of the shadows to look around before ducking back in. Garrus took his eye off the scope as though Sidonis had struck him. Was Sidonis that scared of Garrus? He looked … destroyed. _Good_ , Garrus thought. But somewhere inside him, it didn't feel good.

"Straighten up, Vakarian," he whispered to himself. He had come to do a job, to set those souls at rest, not to mention his own. He was going to do it now. Damn Shepard and her morals, anyway, he thought in irritation. She was the only reason he was hesitating.

"He's over there by that marquee, hiding in the shadows," he snapped at her. "Get him out in the light and keep him talking."

He watched them interact, Sidonis reluctant to come out into the light and Shepard using all her considerable skills at persuasion to get him to come toward her. Even at that, it would be a difficult shot—Sidonis had stepped only far enough out to satisfy Shepard, and no further. Anyone less skilled than Garrus Vakarian might have trouble taking that shot, Garrus thought with satisfaction.

But Shepard was in his way. Garrus hadn't counted on her lack of height being an issue—he'd thought it would make things easier, actually. But Sidonis had to bend down so far to hear Shepard, who was apparently speaking in an uncharacteristically soft voice, that he no longer presented enough of a target for Garrus to be sure he'd hit Sidonis and not Shepard.

"You're in my shot," he growled at her over the comm. "Move."

They kept talking, Sidonis still bent over.

"Damn it, Shepard! Get him to move so I can take the shot!"

Sidonis started to walk away from Shepard, but she grabbed him and held him there, standing deliberately in Garrus's way. Garrus growled in frustration. He got the point she was trying to make, but he had told her as clearly as he could that he wasn't her, and he had to do this his way.

Shepard hit her comm link, and he could hear Sidonis whining that he hadn't had a choice.

"Everyone has a choice," Garrus said to Shepard. Apparently except himself, right now, since Shepard was in the way of his choice.

Sidonis was still whining. "They got to me! Said they'd kill me! What was I supposed to do?"

"He's a damn coward, Shepard, are you satisfied? Let me take the shot!"

"You were just trying to save yourself?" she snapped at Sidonis. "That's it?"

"Look, I know what I did. I know they died because of me, and I have to live with that." This was the Sidonis Garrus had once thought he'd known—the thoughtful man who cared about the welfare of those around him. "I wake up every night," Sidonis continued, "sick, sweating, miserable. Each of their faces staring at me—accusing me. And I'm guilty, so I can't even argue with them or hope for mercy." He shook his head. "I'm already a dead man. I don't sleep, food has no taste. Some days I just want it to be over."

Garrus saw the scope tremble, and he tightened his grip on the gun, knowing it was his hands that were shaking. He dreamed of them, too. It had been his fault, too, for trusting too much, for not taking enough precautions, for not training them to expect an ambush. He realized he could see now, that Sidonis's face was fully framed in the scope. He could have taken the shot at any point in the past minute … but he hadn't.

Shepard's voice came softly over the comm. "He's already paying for his crime. Don't add yours to it. Let it go, Garrus."

"He still has his life." Garrus heard his own voice break. "He hasn't paid enough."

"Does he? Really? Look at him. Is there anything left to kill? Guilt is taking its own vengeance. So ask yourself—if you kill him now, is it for them … or for yourself?" She walked away, leaving him a clear shot. Sidonis wasn't moving, just standing there, looking broken and defeated. Waiting for Garrus to end his misery.

"They deserved better," he said fiercely to Shepard.

"So do better. For them. Be what they believed you were. What I believe you are. Please, Garrus."

Garrus wiped a hand across his face, putting the gun down. "You win, Shepard. Tell him … tell him to go. Tell him to make sure he and I are never in the same part of the galaxy again."

She returned to Sidonis, leaving her comm on so Garrus could hear her. "He's giving you a second chance, Sidonis. So don't waste it. And … stay out of his way."

"Gladly. Tell Garrus … tell Garrus I'll try to … make it up to him, to them. Somehow."

And he was gone, and Garrus's revenge was gone with him.


	18. No Peace

_Thank you for reading!_

* * *

Before Zia could try to find him, Garrus disassembled the sniper rifle, packed it up in its case, and took off through the Citadel's warren of catwalks, a network he knew well and Shepard knew not at all. He couldn't understand himself. He had wanted to take the shot. He had spent months imagining what it would be like to have Sidonis in his sights, had pictured exactly where the bullet would enter Sidonis's brain, and when the moment had come, his finger hadn't moved on the trigger.

His comm link crackled, Shepard trying to reach him, but he ignored it.

Had it been how pathetic Sidonis looked, how hunted? It was clear that what he had done, and his fear of Garrus's retribution, haunted Sidonis as thoroughly as Garrus would have wanted him to be haunted. But was it enough? Slowly the faces of the others flashed through Garrus's memory, picture after picture. He had been their leader; they had trusted him. And he had failed them, fallen for a thin story and left them like pyjaks in a trap. Maybe he was the one someone should shoot in the head. Wasn't he equally as guilty as Sidonis of what had happened? It had been Sidonis's betrayal, yes, but it had also been Garrus's stupidity, and he had no choice but to live with that.

Maybe that was why he hadn't done it, because he knew so thoroughly the hell Sidonis must be living in, because he lived in it himself.

The comm link crackled again, and he clicked it impatiently. "Not now, Shepard."

"Garrus—"

"Look, I know you want to talk about this, but I don't. Not yet." Humans and their infernal talking, he thought. Always with the talking. "I had him, Shepard!"

"I know you did. And you didn't take the shot."

"Because of you!"

There was a pause, and then she said softly, "You chose not to. I know that's not what you had intended … but I think it's for the best."

"Best? They're all still dead," he said bitterly.

"Killing Sidonis wouldn't have brought them back to life."

"I know that! I—" Too late, he realized that she had drawn him into exactly the talk he'd said he didn't want to have, and clicked off the comm with a growl of annoyance. Were all humans that insidious? If so, no wonder so many people tried to kill them.

She wasn't wrong, of course. Killing Sidonis wouldn't have brought his team back from the dead. But then, Garrus had never expected it to. He had expected it to bring him closure, some kind of peace of mind, some kind of acceptance of Sidonis's role in the killings and thus his own, and now all of that was out of his reach again.

Or had it always been? Where had his assurance that it would all come right if only he could kill Sidonis come from? He had wanted vengeance, to repay in kind the pain he felt—but Sidonis felt that pain, as deeply as he did. It had been plain in every line of his body. If that was all Garrus had been out for, he had it, and there was no peace in it. Maybe there never would have been.

He let himself down off a catwalk in the midst of the Zakera Ward market and found himself face to face with Zia Shepard. She was leaning against a wall with her arms folded, her eyes steady on his face.

"What, this is your new parlor trick, appearing out of the blue to mess with my life?" he snapped.

"Last time I appeared out of the blue I saved your sorry ass," she reminded him, her voice steady and even. "And you can disagree all you like, but I think I just did it again."

"It was my decision!"

"Yeah, it was. But you were making it for the wrong reasons."

"I never asked you to step in and redirect me!"

She raised her eyebrows. "You know how I feel about killing people just because they're there and you can, and you still asked me to come along with you. Thane would have come, or Zaeed, or Kasumi, and none of them would have thought twice about helping you put a bullet in that man's brain. But you didn't ask them; you asked me."

Garrus had no response to that, so he turned his back on her and started up the stairs. She caught him halfway up, grabbing his arm and pulling him to a stop.

"Talk to me, Garrus."

"Why? You think you already have all the answers."

That shot, or the tone in which it was delivered, hit home, and she winced at it. Garrus took the opportunity to pull his arm out of her grasp and continue up the stairs. She came with him, but didn't try to stop him or speak again as they walked through Zakera Ward, Garrus taking deliberately elongated strides so she'd have to hurry to keep up.

At last, he stopped and turned to her. "What do you want from me, Shepard?"

"Talk to me, Garrus," she said again, patiently.

"And tell you what? That I'm a coward, that I couldn't go through with it, that I'm not sure it would have helped?"

"Yes."

"Fine. I'm a coward, I couldn't go through with it, and I'm not sure it would have helped." He sighed. "I haven't changed my mind—my team deserves to be avenged. But when I had Sidonis in my sights … I just couldn't do it."

Shepard nodded. "The lines between good and evil blur when we're looking at people we know. He was one of your team, too, and he has suffered as you have. Maybe more, since he was responsible."

"Maybe."

"You gave him a chance to atone, a push to make something better of himself, and the permission to stop living in fear. Maybe that'll make a difference, give him a reason to do something more with his life."

"I … would like to think that," Garrus admitted. He shook his head. "It's so much easier to see the world in black and white. Gray … I don't know what to do with gray." He looked down into Zia's brown eyes. "I just want to know that I did the right thing. Not just for me, but for my team."

"You're the only one who can tell yourself if that's true."

"What would you have done?"

"I don't know, Garrus. I hope I never have to find out. I guess … you have to go with your instincts."

"My instincts are what got me into this mess."

"No, they're what kept you from pulling the trigger."

"I suppose you're right. Thanks, Shepard, for everything. I appreciate you being here."

She looked troubled, her eyes searching his face. "Garrus, don't you know that I—" She cut herself off. "Never mind."

"Is there something you wanted to say?" He hoped she wasn't upset with him; he was upset enough with himself, with Sidonis, and with the situation in general that he wasn't sure he could handle her disappointment on top of all of it.

"No, nothing. I'm glad I could be here for you. If it helps any, I think you did the right thing."

"I'm sure it will help eventually. I just have to get it straight in my head."


	19. Something Else Altogether

_Thank you for reading!_

* * *

Back aboard the _Normandy_ , hurtling through space on the way to the next assignment, Garrus kept his distance from Shepard, brushing off her attempts to talk by retreating into his calibrations. While he understood why she had stopped him from shooting Sidonis, and he could see why this might be the better way, he couldn't help a certain amount of resentment that she had stepped in and all but made the decision for him. He hadn't asked her for that; he had asked for her help. That her definition of 'help' was different than what he had thought he asked for wasn't her fault, and he should have seen it coming, but he hadn't, and he had been taken by surprise when she turned the situation into something that tapped into his own feelings of responsibility for what had happened to his team rather than simply allowing him to lay it all at Sidonis's feet and exorcise whatever guilt he might feel personally by putting a bullet in Sidonis's brain.

Still … it was hard not to remember how haggard and haunted Sidonis had looked. There had been something familiar in his eyes, something Garrus saw every time he looked in the mirror. The memory of their team still bound them together, and no doubt always would. For the sake of those who had trusted them both, Garrus might as well have shot himself and Sidonis at the same time. But he didn't want to die, not anymore, and now that the moment, and the fever for vengeance, had passed, he was no longer sure he wanted Sidonis to die, either.

After all, no one had ever threatened Garrus's life if he didn't betray his people. And while he was certain that, given the choice, he would die rather than betray Shepard or Tali or Wrex or Joker, was he as certain he would take a bullet for Miranda? Or Jacob? Or Zaeed? His team on Omega had been fairly new still, and Sidonis the most recent recruit. Could Garrus really fault him for not putting the others above his own life?

He hadn't thought of killing Sidonis as any different than what they did all the time, going into a firefight, shooting down those who opposed them, but it was. Sidonis hadn't had the chance to fight back; he hadn't even known Garrus was there. Hardly a fair fight. And Shepard had known it. In combat, no one's hand was steadier, no one's shot came with more alacrity, than hers—but cold-blooded murder was something else altogether, and Garrus eventually had to admit she had been right to do what she could to stop him from it. Sidonis's death wouldn't have brought the others back, it wouldn't have eased the pain of having lost them, and it wouldn't have let Garrus off the hook for his own responsibility. He had been looking for a cheap way out of his guilt, hoping to find it in Sidonis's blood, but it wouldn't have been there—and his burden would have been that much greater.

Tightening a bolt an infinitesimal click further, Garrus got to his feet and put the wrench down on his work table. The calibrations had helped, aligning his mind and coordinating his thoughts even as he adjusted the guns that little bit that would mean extra precious seconds in a fight. They would need that when they went against the Collectors.

But he was done for the moment, the guns as close to perfect as he could get them today. Tomorrow, on a fresh night's sleep, and with his thoughts straight in his head, might be different. But for tonight, he needed to clear the air with Shepard, to apologize for what an ass he had been.

Eventually he found her in her quarters—the last place he had looked, honestly, since she was so rarely in them. He was reluctant to disturb her in case she was asleep. She didn't get nearly enough down time for him to intrude on her brief moments. He told himself he would knock lightly, once, and if she didn't answer he wouldn't bother her further.

But she called out "Come in!" as soon as his knuckles had tapped the door.

Her face lit with a smile when she saw him. "Garrus! I didn't expect you." The smile fading, she searched his face anxiously. "Everything all right?"

"Yes. Fine. I'm … sorry I've been abrupt these past few days."

"You had a lot to think about. Did the calibrations help?"

"They always do."

"Good."

"And … I wanted to thank you. If you hadn't been there—"

"I was there. I—I always will be." She got up, putting the datapad in her lap down on her desk.

"And I'll always be here where you need me," he promised. "Whatever happens with the Collectors or the Reapers or whoever else comes after us, I'll be here to help you get the job done."

"Good. Garrus?"

"Shepard?"

She opened her mouth as if to speak, closed it, cleared her throat, and said, with a little smile, "You actually think we'll find something worse than Collectors or Reapers?"

He chuckled. "I like to expect the worst. That way, there's a small chance I'll be pleasantly surprised."

"Well, whatever we come up against, I … couldn't do it without you." Her eyes were on him, dark and intense, and he wondered if there was something bothering her that she wasn't saying.

To make her laugh, he said, "Sure you could. Just not as stylishly."

She did laugh, but it was an odd laugh, hesitant, and she seemed to have more to say. But then the datapad on her desk beeped, and she gave him an apologetic shrug. "Duty calls, I'm afraid."

"If you need me, I'll be—"

"Calibrating."

"Exactly."

She picked up the datapad as he turned to leave. Next to her private terminal, Garrus could see a picture of Shepard with her mother, the family resemblance striking despite the difference in their ages, and next to that, a picture frame turned down on its face. Alenko, undoubtedly. Garrus would have liked to smash his fist in that smug, smiling face for not giving her a chance. He was glad Shepard was putting that attachment in the past—she deserved better. Much better.


	20. Really Happening

_Thank you for reading!_

* * *

The mess hall was full when Garrus decided he'd done enough calibrations for one morning and went to find something to eat. Gardner did his best with the dextro supplies, and Garrus was polite about it, but he would rather have eaten the stock of dextro field rations they kept on hand for emergencies. He peered at the gelatinous mass of … something on his plate. "Looks great."

"Tweaked the recipe." Gardner looked at him expectantly.

"Oh, yes?" Garrus wished he had left it alone … or maybe he didn't. If it looked this bad after tweaking, how bad must it have looked before?

"You be sure to tell me what you think."

"I will, definitely."

With which lie Garrus took the plate and found an empty seat. A couple of the Cerberus hires at the table looked at him apprehensively, but Shepard had made it more than clear that the alien members of the crew were to be treated with respect at all times, so they quickly looked back at their plates. Conversation stilled, though, and Garrus was irritated by it. Couldn't they just think of him as another being with intelligence, just like they were? Humans could be so narrow-minded.

Then he chuckled at himself, because of course a human on a turian ship would have garnered much the same sort of attention, if not outright hostility.

He poked at the jelly thing with his fork and was somewhat relieved when it didn't slide off the plate in search of new adventures. He considered tasting it, then considered having his head examined.

"Look here, you Cerberus bitch, you keep at me like this and I'll tear this ship apart!" The voice came from Miranda's office, just off the main hall, and was shortly followed by the voice's owner, Jack, the crazy biotic girl they'd rescued from a prison ship. She stalked through the mess, glaring at anyone who looked at her. Fortunately, the crew was justifiably terrified of her, so after a few furtive glances everyone looked carefully away.

No sooner had the elevator doors closed behind Jack than a squabble broke out at one of the tables over the New Orleans Loa's biotiball victory over the Usaru Maestros. One daring crewmember was insisting the humans must have cheated because no human team could beat an asari team straight up, and she was being roundly shouted over and at by her fellow crew.

Above the din rose the voice of Grunt, the krogan. "Krogan might is superior to human. Do not dare to contest me!"

"Yeah? Let's see, turtle boy." It was Jacob, who appeared to be carrying a large chip on his shoulder these days.

Grunt's roar of rage was followed by both of them heading for the elevator, probably on the way to the weight room. Garrus hoped it survived the experience.

The biotiball argument calmed suddenly, and Garrus looked up to see Shepard standing behind the lone Maestros supporter with a hand on her shoulder. A couple of sentences and Shepard's soft smile and a crisp order and the table cleared, the crewmembers suddenly remembering places they had to be. Shepard got a cup of the tea she preferred, sitting down across from Garrus and sipping it with relief.

"Long day?"

"They all are, these days. What's wrong with everyone?"

He looked at her with surprise. "You're leading a team into a suicide mission and you're wondering why everyone's snapping at each other?"

She narrowed her eyes thoughtfully over the rim of the cup, then shook her head. "Good point."

Garrus nodded. "They'll get over it."

"Or they'll kill each other."

"I doubt it. Give them some shore leave, should clear everything right up." He chuckled suddenly. "You people sure don't prepare for high-risk operations like turians."

"I imagine there are a lot of things we don't do like turians."

Was it Garrus's imagination, or did her eyes darken and her breath catch as if she meant something more than just combat tactics? He decided it must be his own stress level sneaking up on him and studiously ignored the possibility.

"So how do turians get ready for high-risk operations?" Shepard asked. "Combat simulator?"

"Good call. Violence in general, really. Turian ships have training rooms for exercise, combat sims, even full-contact sparring. Whatever lets people work off stress."

"Your crewmembers fight each other before a mission? Don't you risk falling short of a full complement if someone gets injured?"

"That's half the excitement, taking someone down without lasting injury." Garrus could feel adrenaline pounding through his veins just thinking about it. "And it's supervised, of course." He chuckled at a sudden idea. "It's a great way to settle grudges amicably. You should let Jack and Miranda try it."

Shepard was tempted for a moment, then shook her head regretfully. "I'm not sure I'd trust either of them not to get carried away."

"You might be surprised—Jack might consider it a victory in and of itself to keep her head while Miranda lost hers."

"I suppose. I'll give it some thought." She tilted her head a little, looking at him curiously. "You ever take part?"

"Oh, sure. Good exercise." He nodded as a memory came to him. "I remember right before one mission, we were about to hit a batarian pirate squad. Risky. There was only one way in that made any sense, but this recon scout had been pushing back at me, insisting she had a better way. We'd really been at each other's throats. She eventually suggested we settle it in the ring."

"Did you go easy on her?"

Garrus laughed. "Hardly. We were the top-ranked hand-to-hand specialists on the ship. I had reach, but she had flexibility. We went nine rounds before the judge called it a draw. There were a lot of unhappy betters in the training room." Without thinking, he added the usual capper. "We held a tiebreaker in her quarters later. I had reach, but she had—" He realized suddenly who he was talking to, and cleared his throat, finishing in a faint voice. "Flexibility." He cleared his throat. "More than one way to work off stress, I guess."

Shepard leaned across the table, her eyes wide and—no question about it—darker than usual. "Are you, um, carrying any particular stress right now, Garrus?"

She couldn't mean what it sounded like she meant. No. This was Shepard, and he was imagining things. "I … don't know. Maybe?"

She took a deep breath. "Maybe I could help you with that."

She didn't mean it, she didn't mean it, she didn't mean it, he chanted inwardly, stumbling over his words in his haste not to misunderstand her just because of what he had occasionally fantasized about hearing her say. "I … uh … didn't think you'd feel like sparring, Commander."

"I'd hate to disappoint the betters." She was more sure of herself now, leaning farther across the table, her voice stronger. "I was thinking more of skipping straight to the tiebreaker. We could test your reach … and my flexibility."

Spirits. Well, there was no longer much room for misunderstanding … unless he had suddenly been dropped into the porn vid of his most satisfying fantasies and no one had told him. He ran a hand over his jaw, at a complete loss for a response. "Um … I didn't … I mean, I never knew you had a weakness for men with scars."

Those beautiful eyes were softer now, open and vulnerable. "Just you, Garrus."

"Shepard. Zia." He could barely think, so shocked by the idea that this was really happening, after all the times he had told himself it was impossible. "You know there's no one in the galaxy I respect more than you."

"But you're not interested."

"No! I mean, yes!" he said hastily, hating the pain and doubt that crossed her face. "It's just—I never thought you—it's just … does that even … work?" He was stuttering like it was his first time in the ring. _Get it together, Vakarian._

"We could find out."

"I … think you might have to give me some time to sort this out." Was he really being this lukewarm? After having dreamed of this so long, he was suddenly gripped by fear. What if he hurt her? What if he let her down? She deserved so much better than she'd been given.

"Sure, Garrus. Take your time."

He could tell he had hurt her by the stiffness of her posture as she left the mess. He stared down at the gelatinous goo on his plate and stuck the fork resolutely in it. Eating this … whatever it was would be his penance.


	21. Interspecies Awkwardness

_Thank you for reading! No update next week (holidays), but I'll be back the week after. Have a very safe and happy New Year!_

* * *

Garrus's back slammed up against the wall. Next to him, Shepard took up the same stance. Closer to the corner, she peered around it.

"Still there?" Garrus whispered.

"Yes."

"Five more coming this way," Tali called from farther down the mineshaft.

"Only five? Piece of cake." Garrus slammed another heat sink home, readying his weapon.

"So, no tension, then, Garrus?" Shepard asked. She sighted around the corner and fired.

"We're in a mine infested with husks, Shepard, for, what, the tenth time?"

"At least," Tali agreed.

"What's to be stressed about?"

Shepard grinned up at him, ejecting the used heat sink from her gun. "I just thought you might need some of that tension eased later, that's all."

Garrus nearly choked, the breath leaving his body all in a rush, as he followed her meaning. She hadn't pursued her offer to "ease tension" together in the last couple of days, and he had been worried that his unprepared, startled response to it had offended her. Apparently not.

"Shepard, maybe this isn't exactly the time …"

She blinked at him, all wide-eyed innocence. "I thought you said this was a piece of cake. At least ten times before, right? Doesn't that make this the perfect time?"

"Time for what?" Tali asked. She turned the pointed cone of her visor in their direction, staring so pointedly Garrus thought he could almost see her eyes through the purple-tinted plastic that covered her face. "Oh!" she gasped suddenly, looking at them if possible more intently. "No! No, it is definitely not time for that. Not in my hearing, at least." She looked back down the hallway and squeezed off two rapid shots.

"There's no 'that'," Garrus protested.

"Isn't there?" Shepard asked mildly.

"On the ship, Zia. Please."

Whatever there was in his desperate growl seemed to be what she had been looking for, because she winked at him before disappearing around the corner.

Tali fired again, cooing at her defense drone as it distracted the husks, before moving next to Garrus, who had been as effectively removed from combat as if Shepard had taken his gun away, his head spinning. Who knew that all it took to keep a turian off his game was one small human commander?

"So how long has this been going on, then?" Tali asked.

"It really isn't."

"Good luck telling Shepard that." She tipped the cone of her visor up toward his face curiously. "And why would you want to, anyway? If you have a chance to be with Shepard, why wouldn't you take it?"

That certainly was the million-credit question, Garrus reflected. For all that he had dreamed of her showing an interest in him, he had never expected it to actually happen … and now that it had, the very idea filled him with a terror that he wasn't sure he wanted to look at too closely. As clear a case of "be careful what you wish for" as he'd ever seen, he thought, following Tali around the corner, where he spent a satisfying half an hour working out his frustrations on the husks.

In respect to Tali's wishes, it seemed, Shepard didn't say anything further as they detonated the alien machine deep in the mine and took the shuttle back up to the _Normandy_. But as soon as Tali was gone, Shepard stepped in front of him, effectively trapping him there in the shuttle bay. "There's no 'that', Garrus?"

"Shepard, I …"

"What is it? Because I know it's not that you aren't interested."

He couldn't deny that, although he was a little embarrassed that it had been obvious to her. "It's …" He seized on the most obvious issue at hand. "I've never really considered cross-species intercourse." He winced at the term. "And damn, saying it that way doesn't help. Now I feel dirty and clinical. I just—wonder if we would even be compatible. You're so soft, and I'm so—" He caught himself, clearing his throat nervously. "Not soft. I just … wonder if you wouldn't be better off looking somewhere closer to home. This—wouldn't be what you're used to."

She caught her breath sharply. "Kaidan. You think this is about Kaidan."

Garrus didn't argue. Because as much as he was legitimately worried that he could easily hurt her if they pursued a physical relationship … yeah, this was a little bit about Kaidan.

"Come on." Shepard didn't look back over her shoulder as she led him to the elevator.

In her quarters, Garrus noticed that EDI's avatar had been dismantled. Shepard followed his gaze and nodded. "Perks of command. EDI agreed there should be one place on the ship where I can have a private conversation." She sighed, looking around the room. "I suspect it's bugged anyway, but this is at least a little better." Sitting down on the edge of her bed, she gestured him to the couch.

"What's on your mind, Zia?"

"Do you know how I came back to life?" Since he obviously didn't, because she had never told him, she kept going without waiting for an answer. "I woke up when the station was attacked."

"Naturally." He shook his head. Could she never catch a break?

"I had my armor on and a gun in my hand before I was even sure I remembered my name. Once we had fought our way through the station, Jacob and Miranda and the Illusive Man told me some things … but not enough. I didn't know where any of you were, if you had survived the _Normandy_ , nothing. It nearly drove me crazy. And I know what you're thinking—but the first person on my mind wasn't Kaidan, Garrus. It was you. I needed you—your calm strength, your wise counsel, your support. When you took off that helmet on Omega and I saw it was you, it felt like … like I could fly. And when you took that rocket to the face and I thought I'd lost you, I felt lost, too."

"You were dead for two years, Zia. Do you know what that did to me? To us?" he hastily corrected himself.

Her brown eyes softened, indicating she had heard the crack in his voice that had betrayed his true emotions. "I can only imagine." She reached for his hand, and his fingers closed around hers. He looked at their joined hands, hers so small, so soft, so alien, and let go, thinking how easy it would be for him to hurt her.

"So there you are, you have me back on your ship, and you want me to believe you never thought about Kaidan again? I was there on Horizon, remember." He wanted to believe she had never thought about Kaidan again, but he knew better. He had seen how the scene on Horizon affected her.

"No, of course not. I thought about Kaidan, I wondered where he was. When I saw him on Horizon, everything we had been to one another came flooding back. But then—well, you saw how he was. He couldn't stop to think, couldn't give me the benefit of the doubt. And when we got back to the ship, I thought about him, and realized he had always been that way. Alliance above everything. So much insistence on the regs, so bound to the rules."

Garrus chuckled. "So were you."

"Until you came along," she agreed. "I'm still a rule follower, but I'm learning how to be a maverick from you, Garrus. And that's the difference, in the end. Kaidan was never going to see me as a person first—I was always going to be Commander Shepard, a fellow soldier, first. You saw through that from the beginning. You saw me for who I am. And that's why … why I don't want someone 'closer to home'. I want you, Garrus, my best friend, the person I trust most in this galaxy." She got off the bed and moved to the couch, sitting next to him. "Is that so hard to believe?"

"I …" He swallowed, wanting to reach for her, wanting to accept what she was offering, but so afraid. What if he wasn't what she wanted when it came down to it? What if he wasn't good enough for her? What if he hurt her?

Zia put her hand over his again. "If you can manage the delicate calibrations you're always making, I have to believe you won't hurt me."

He glanced at her sideways. "Zia. While I enjoy calibrating, I'm not exactly … passionate about it."

"Could've fooled me." She grinned at him.

He held her hand, carefully, a fraction more tightly. "I want this, too. I do. I'm just—"

"Afraid."

"Yes. I'll … do some research to figure out how this should work. Maybe find some music." He cleared his throat. "It'll either be a night to treasure … or some horrible interspecies awkwardness thing."

"You sure do know how to woo a girl, Vakarian."

"What can I say? It's a gift."


	22. Romantic Advice

_Thank you for reading!_

* * *

The research Garrus wanted to do on interspecies … contact proved surprisingly difficult to settle down to. Awkward as it was, he wanted no witnesses to whatever he was about to pull up on his screen, not even accidental ones, and that meant he needed Shepard off the ship. Not to mention that the idea of watching human-turian intimate vids while she was on the _Normandy_ was equal parts hideously embarrassing and thoroughly arousing.

The trouble was that any time Shepard left the ship, she took him with her. Which was flattering, and he was happy to be there to watch her back—in the protection sense, he told himself firmly, not at all in the ogling her backside and wondering what it looked like under the armor sense—but didn't afford him a lot of privacy. Finally, in desperation, he invented a problem integrating the new Thannix cannon into the _Normandy_ 's weapons array, and asked her to take Tali along with herself and Jack to Pragia to blow up Jack's former home. Shepard was reluctant, but apparently Garrus was more persuasive than he'd given himself credit for, and eventually the shuttle took off with the three women aboard. He hoped Tali's calm presence could help Shepard deal with Jack, who was volatile at the best of times, and on her home planet facing the history of whatever was done to her as a child would be a smoldering volcano ready to blow, he was certain.

Still, Shepard and Tali had been through worse, and Jack genuinely liked Shepard, for all she tried not to show it, so Garrus hoped for the best, locked the door to the forward battery, and started punching in keywords on his private terminal that would have had him blushing right up to his crest if turians were capable of such a thing.

It was a train wreck. Given how recent the First Contact War was, there hadn't been a lot of time for humans and turians to develop a cross-species relationship in general, much less specifically in the bedroom, so much of what was out there was purely speculative … and filthy, violent, and disturbing, for the most part. Garrus shut the terminal down and sat there staring at it in horror. Surely that couldn't be his future with Shepard!

The thought disturbed him so thoroughly that he couldn't just sit here alone. He unlocked the doors and moved on unsteady legs through the mess hall and to the elevator, his feet carrying him toward the cockpit without much thought on his part.

"Garrus," Joker acknowledged as he stepped inside the door. "She's still on the planet, and nothing's blown up yet."

"That's good to know." Garrus thought about Shepard, so small and soft and delicate, so easily hurt. He looked down at himself, so many hard edges, his claws so sharp … It would be a miracle if she survived an intimate moment without some kind of permanent scarring, he thought in despair.

"Garrus, I took the liberty of expanding your extranet search and found some alternative vids on your topic," EDI spoke up brightly.

"What?"

"You were searching for—"

"I know what I was searching for!" he interrupted, desperate to keep her silent. "Didn't Shepard talk to you about times when it's okay to help and times when it isn't?"

"Help?" Joker swiveled his chair around, looking up at Garrus with concern for his beloved ship. "Help with what? Something wrong with the guns? If you've broken anything—"

"No, no, the guns are fine. It's … nothing."

"Garrus was searching for assistance on how to be intimate with the Commander," EDI filled in helpfully.

There was a silence in the cockpit, and then it filled with Joker's deafening hoots of laughter.

Garrus stood there, trying to determine whether Shepard's anger if he damaged her pilot would be worth the satisfaction of breaking Joker's jaw, and how the Illusive Man would react if he reprogrammed EDI to keep her damned mouth shut.

At last Joker seemed to run out of steam, gasping his laughter to a standstill. "Oh, man, that was good. I needed that."

"Are you quite finished?" Garrus asked coldly.

Joker chuckled quietly, considering. "Yeah, I think so. Come on, you have to admit that it's pretty hilarious that all it takes is the Commander batting those big brown eyes at you and you're on the extranet watching porn vids like a teenager. On second thought, maybe I'm not done." He broke down in more laughter.

"Mr. Moreau, Garrus does not seem to feel that this is a joking matter."

"Thank you, EDI, I can speak for myself. You've done enough."

"I merely thought I could assist you in your endeavor. Perhaps you need something less speculative and more clinical."

"Yes, clinical is the first word I thought of when contemplating a romantic evening," Garrus snapped.

"Look, all jokes aside, Garrus, it's the Commander. You care about her, anyone can see that if they've ever been in the same room with the two of you. It can't be that hard." Joker was looking at him with sympathy, which was really just salt in the open wound at this point.

"Do I really need romantic advice from you?"

Joker frowned. "If you can't get your head on straight and give her what she deserves, then you sure as hell need it from someone." He swiveled his chair around and started punching buttons on the console, his straight back and silence indicating that the conversation was over.

Garrus left the cockpit, annoyed with both Joker and EDI, but mostly because they were right. Shepard deserved better than this paralyzing fear that had him dragging his feet, unable to reach for what he and she both wanted. The trouble was, he couldn't seem to let go of whatever it was he was so afraid of.


	23. Clinical Advice

_Thank you for reading!_

* * *

After entirely too long standing paralyzed in the CIC, trying to avoid the embarrassment of whatever line of questioning Chambers would come up with if she noticed him, Garrus considered what EDI had said, that he needed something less speculative and more clinical. Maybe that was the problem, he needed a better sense of what exactly the challenges would be, and then he could wrap his head around them and come up with a solution. He was good at solving problems, always had been. Surely if he viewed Shepard as a problem to solve, just another calibration, he wouldn't feel quite so terrified at the idea of being intimate with her.

He went into the lab, where Mordin Solus was moving between stations with an almost dizzying speed, humming snatches of song as he went. That was a relief to Garrus—according to Shepard, it was the moments when Mordin was still and silent, working only at one location, when he couldn't be interrupted. Garrus supposed he understood that. Sometimes when a particular calibration was especially tricky, he was almost afraid to breathe until it was done, and he certainly wouldn't want to be interrupted in the middle of one of those.

But he hated to disturb Mordin if he was in a good groove, and so he stood halfway into the room feeling—and no doubt looking—indecisive, until Mordin looked up and seemed to see him there for the first time.

"Garrus Vakarian. Need something, or just passing through on the way to somewhere else?"

"I … could use some, er, clinical advice, if you have a moment."

"Ah. Yes. Thought you might be stopping by." Mordin took a tray out of the machine in front of him, stuck it in what looked like an oven, turned the dial, and shut the oven door. "May have made an error. Incorrect assumption. Highly embarrassing."

"Oh?"

"Yes. Commander Shepard … thought her constant interruptions meant one thing, in fact, not that at all." Mordin shook his head.

"What did you think her interruptions meant?"

Mordin flushed slightly. "Took them as interest in personal relationship, not as professional courtesy, natural instinct of good commander to care for crew's needs."

"Ah." Garrus considered that for a moment, wondering if human-salarian relationships were more common than human-turian. He would imagine so, but still, they weren't exactly everyday matters, either. "I hope it wasn't too much of a disappointment to you."

The salarian gave him a bewildered look. Clearly the thought that he might be disappointed not to be the object of Shepard's affections had never crossed his mind. "Not what you came to talk about, I hope?"

"No. Well … sort of."

"Sort of?" Mordin repeated carefully. Then, "Oh. Yes. Of course. Perfectly natural."

"It is? Because it seems pretty unnatural to me, and I can't figure out how it … works." Garrus realized he hadn't exactly been clear, and he'd hate to get to the end of this conversation and find out they were talking about two different things. "Er, what I mean to say is that the Commander and I are considering … a, um, personal relationship, as you say, and I was hoping you might have some … advice. Clinical advice." Once upon a time, he reflected, he'd been considered good at this sort of thing. He wouldn't have needed advice from a salarian on how to go about it. That's what all this cross-species relations had gotten them—no one knew what the hell they were doing anymore.

"Yes. Understood that. Medical conundrum. Not typical, human-turian." Mordin nodded. "Sexual activity normal stress release for humans and turians. Still … recommend caution. Warn of chafing. Will talk to Shepard, recommend analgesic."

Garrus winced. He'd never thought of chafing. Was there no end to the ways Shepard could end up hurt if they went through with this? "Caution," he repeated. "Chafing. Right. Anything else?"

"Turians based on dextro-amino acids. Humans on levo-amino. Ingestion of opposing tissue could provoke allergic reactions. Anaphylactic shock possible. So … ah, recommend against ingesting."

Ingesting? Anaphylactic shock? Was it really worth all this to take their relationship to the next level? Garrus blinked, not sure if he could handle any more. "And?"

"And … will forward advice booklet to your quarters." Mordin activated his omni-tool and tapped a few keys on it. "Valuable diagrams, positions comfortable for both species, erogenous zone overviews. Can also supply oils or ointments to reduce discomfort. Will give EDI electronic relationship aid demonstration vids to use as necessary."

"No! I mean, let's, ah, leave EDI out of this." Just what Garrus needed, more electronic advice. Although the advice booklet was more like what he had come in here to get in the first place. The anaphylactic shock and the chafing were just bonuses. "Thanks. I appreciate the warning." He turned to leave, his legs feeling unsteady beneath him. What he wanted from Shepard could actually kill her. How could he let her put herself in danger for a little … stress release?

"Garrus. Did not mean to discourage. Believe all beings should enjoy themselves while possible. Would not have considered human-turian a natural relationship, but think you and Shepard can set precedent." He nodded. "And if needed, will be here, studying cell reproduction. Much simpler. Less alcohol and mood music required."

"Thank you," Garrus repeated, genuinely moved at the evident sincerity in the salarian's voice. He wished he believed it was safe for them to set a precedent, but everything Mordin had told him had only convinced him that he was the wrong man for Shepard.

He locked himself into the forward battery, and when Shepard knocked at his door he sent her away, not sure how to tell her that he couldn't take her up on her offer, wishing it had never come up, knowing now he had to hurt her one way or the other when it was the last thing he wanted to do.


	24. A Good Sharp Kick in the Rear

_Thank you for reading!_

* * *

Garrus held his breath, turning the pliers very slowly. Almost there. Then a sharp, abrupt knock came on the door of the forward battery, and the pliers slipped from his fingers and clattered across the floor, landing against the far wall in a hard-to-reach corner. He swore, getting to his feet. Whoever was at the door had better be here for a good reason.

For once, he hoped it wasn't Shepard. They hadn't spoken much since he'd talked to Mordin and become thoroughly convinced that they were a bad idea as something more than friends, and she'd been decidedly distant on their brief trip to Illium to give Liara the intel they'd collected on the Shadow Broker. Granted, it had been a pretty packed visit, with a bomb and a rogue Spectre and a whole squad of mercs … but really, that was a normal day for them.

Another rap at the door, sharper than before.

"Who is it?" Garrus snapped.

"Liara."

Oh. Come to think of it, he had a few things to say to Liara, who was aboard as they traveled to the Shadow Broker's secret lair in hopes of rescuing a friend of hers. "Come in, then."

Liara stalked into the room, closing and locking the doors behind her before turning to Garrus and demanding, "What are you thinking?"

"What do you mean?"

"You know exactly what I mean. Shepard."

Garrus blinked at her. He could have sworn she and Shepard hadn't had enough time on Illium to discuss the situation, and was surprised that Shepard would talk about it even with Liara.

But before he could splutter a denial, Liara advanced on him, her hands on her hips. "Don't pretend there's nothing going on. I know you, and I know Shepard, and I am a very good information broker, which requires being able to read people."

"So if you already know everything, what is it you need me to tell you?" he countered.

"Why you're treating her as if you're not interested."

"I … can't talk about this with you."

"But you could talk about it with Mordin? And with Joker? And the AI?"

He winced. Apparently she really was a good information broker. "Liara …"

"Don't Liara me."

"You don't know the whole story."

"I think I know enough."

"What are you doing here, slapping my hand for not playing nice with others?"

She stared up at him, her mouth open in shock and anger. "Are you being glib with me? You're breaking Shepard's heart, and you're being glib with me?"

"Hardly breaking her heart," Garrus protesed, trying to swallow the guilt he felt—and deserved—at her words.

"You don't think so? How often do you think a woman like Shepard puts herself out there, Garrus? Do you think it's easy for her? It's probably harder for her than for anyone, given the pressures she carries. She chose you. Out of everyone she could have picked, she chose you, and she brought herself to you, and you turned your back on her."

Garrus knew perfectly well that she was right, which was why he snapped back at her, "I see what this is about. You wish it was you she'd turned to. I saw the Shepard shrine in your apartment."

Liara blinked, covering her reaction almost instantly, but not before Garrus had seen the pain on her face. "You're right," she said softly. "I wish it was me. I would have done anything if it had been me. But it isn't me, it's you. And I know you care for her just as much as I do, so what are you doing?"

"Look at me, Liara. I'm … a turian. She's a human."

"And?"

"And … I'm all metallic bones and claws and mandibles, sharp edges, hard surfaces. And she's—none of those things."

Liara frowned. "This is because you're afraid you'll hurt her?"

"Have you seen the vids? They're …" He shook his head. "Disturbing. And Mordin Solus was talking about anaphylactic shock. I can't risk— I can't."

"Garrus, turians and asari have been mating for centuries. Asari are shaped much like humans, with the curves and the … lack of claws. Do you think every asari for generations who has bonded with a turian has taken her life into her hands?"

"When you put it that way … probably not."

"You have to go to her, Garrus. You want to be with her, she wants to be with you. Hasn't what we've all been through shown us all that life is too short to let such opportunities pass you by?"

He nodded. "Yes. Yes, it has. Thank you."

"You needed a good sharp kick in the rear."

"Not exactly what I was thanking you for … but you're not wrong. Liara."

"Garrus?"

"Why didn't you tell me? You knew what Cerberus was trying to do. You retrieved her body for them! Why didn't you ask me to help you? Why didn't you tell me there was a chance to have her back? I was—lost without her."

"We all were. But there was never more than a chance. And the things I had to do to get her body back, to preserve it for Cerberus rather than letting the Collectors get to it … I wouldn't have wanted you to do those things, or even be aware of them. Feron—the person who was helping me—he betrayed the Shadow Broker for me. I thought he was dead all this time. I never wanted anything like that to happen to you, or anyone. I took the risks so no one else would have to."

"But you knew she was still out there. You knew she wasn't dead."

"I knew Cerberus had her. When she walked through my office door, looking just like—It was … indescribable." Liara grasped his arm. "Which makes it all the more important for you to make things right, Garrus. We have her back when we'd thought we lost her. Make the most of that. Don't waste another minute being afraid. For all our sakes."


	25. No More Research

_Thank you for reading!_

* * *

Garrus tapped at the door of Shepard's quarters, hearing her soft "Come in" in response. She was in the bathroom, the door open and the water running, as he came in, and he started to clear his throat and step carefully back out of the room rather than disturb her, but she stepped out holding two dripping wineglasses that she had evidently just been rinsing and called his name.

He was glad she'd done so, because the sight of her was enough to drive his name, and everything else, straight out of his head. He was used to seeing her in her hardsuit, or in the admittedly rather tight-fitting uniform she wore on the _Normandy_ , or occasionally in her dress blues … but he had never seen her look like this before. She wore a tight-fitting black leather dress that stopped just above the knee, revealing very shapely legs in ridiculously impractical high-heeled shoes. Her shoulders were bare, the neckline narrow but plunging just low enough to make Garrus want it to plunge just a little more. He couldn't take his eyes off her; he could barely breathe.

And then he stopped breathing entirely when he realized what it must mean that she had dressed like this for her evening with Liara. The asari had left the _Normandy_ after leaving Shepard's quarters, returning to the Shadow Broker's massive ship above Halgalaz. Returning to be the Shadow Broker, if Garrus understood the situation correctly. But before that, an evening alone with Shepard. The two of them, a bottle of wine, Shepard hurting from Garrus's perceived rejection of her advances, Liara there, so understanding, so much in love with Shepard herself …

"I'll … uh, ahem, just see myself out."

"Garrus." Her voice stopped him at the door. "Where are you going?"

"Did you have a good time with Liara?" he asked, unable to keep the edge from his voice.

"Yes. Is that what you came up here to ask me?"

"Does it matter?"

"It does to me. Talk to me, Garrus."

"Shepard …" He turned back to her, standing there so small and so beautiful and so not how anyone else had ever seen the great Commander Shepard. Except Liara. "Are you and Liara together now?" The words came out in a rush.

"It would serve you right if I said yes."

"It would … but would it be true?"

"No. I thought—I thought you and I were going to be together, but I guess I was wrong. You didn't seem very enthusiastic about the idea."

"I was terrified."

"By me?"

Garrus shook his head. "By myself." He raised his hands, showing her the way they trembled. "I can take shot after shot, the worst firefights, the scariest places, and not a twitch. My hands are rock steady. But just thinking about … touching you ..." He shivered at the idea. "I was afraid of losing control. Who am I kidding? I am afraid of losing control. I don't know how this works, Shepard, how I can be what you need."

"You already are, Garrus. You always have been."

He thought of mentioning Kaidan, of referencing the picture frame face down on her desk, but this was no longer about Kaidan.

This was about Zia and Garrus. They had something special, he and she. They always had, since the beginning. He understood her. She let him talk her down when she needed it, she let him take care of her when she wouldn't have accepted that from anyone else. She had come to him because she wanted more, and he had given her the cold shoulder in his terrible fear.

"Zia." He climbed the steps up to the alcove where her desk was, where she stood with the two wineglasses in her hand. "Will you let me apologize, let me make it up to you?"

She set the glasses down behind her, tipping her head up toward him. "Are you apologizing?"

"With all my heart."

"Then I suppose I'll think about it." But she was smiling, much to his relief.

Tentatively, gently, he put a hand on her shoulder, feeling the supple leather beneath his fingers, daring to ease one fingertip off the leather and on to her bare skin. She caught her breath at the touch, her smile widening, and Garrus slid his whole hand across until it was cupping the point of her shoulder. "This is quite a dress."

"Do you like it?"

"It might take some getting used to." He stroked her skin, gently. "Is it for a special occasion?"

Shepard chuckled. "I'd like to pretend I got it for you, to finally shake you out of your fears, but I have to tell the truth—I didn't even pick it out."

"Who did?" Who knew Shepard's sizes so perfectly? The dress fit her like a glove. "And why are you wearing it now?"

"You're kind of adorable when you're trying to pretend you're not jealous, you know that?"

"I'm not jealous," Garrus protested, "just … curious."

"Uh-huh."

"So?"

"So I was trying it on so Liara could help me put the look together, and the dress came from Kasumi. She wants me to go to some party with her, to steal back a thing—"

"You're going on a job, in that?" Garrus frowned. "She does know you're not really the sneaking type, right?"

"I told her. I think she thinks that's half the fun. Don't worry," she added, "she's promised me that she's going to smuggle my armor and weapons in for the back half of the mission, but I have to charm the people at some party first." Her voice dropped, low and intimate, and Garrus forgot how to breathe again. "Or am I not the charming type, either?"

"No, you've certainly bewitched me."

Shepard took a step forward, their bodies nearly touching. Garrus wanted to bend down and kiss her, to really take this to the next level … but the old fear still held him back. He took in a breath, wanting to explain, but Shepard held his arms when he would have stepped away.

"Garrus. I'm not trying to pressure you, really. If you're not comfortable with this, it's okay."

"Shepard, you are the best friend I've got in this screwed-up galaxy. I don't want anything to ruin that—but I think I'm beginning to see that this can be both. More. And I want that, Zia, more than I can tell you. I'm not sure I'm ready to move too fast, but I promise, you never have to worry about making me uncomfortable." He showed her his hand, the fingers still trembling. "Nervous, yes … but never uncomfortable."

She closed her hand around his, the firm, sure grip making his fingers stop shaking. "Take as much time as you need. Um … how much time, exactly?"

"I don't know. Until all the clinical terms Mordin used are out of my head?"

"You spoke to Mordin? No wonder."

"It might not have been the wisest choice," Garrus admitted. "It'll be before we throw ourselves into hell for the good of the galaxy, that I can promise you." He put his hands on her shoulders, looking down into the softness of her brown eyes. "A few minutes that are just for us."

"I like the sound of that."

"I'll do some research, then, shall I?"

"No more research, Garrus. Let's just … let it happen when it feels right."

He nodded. "I like the sound of that."


	26. On Both Sides

_Thank you for reading!_

* * *

"Garrus, look at this." Shepard was stopped in front of a kiosk.

He walked up behind her and, after a moment's hesitation, put a hand gently on her shoulder. The casual touch was new, and made his heart beat faster as she leaned against him. The sense of intimacy, of belonging, was so sweet he wanted to drown in it.

"Listen to this," she said, turning his attention to the news vid on the screen, Shepard's old friend Emily Wong at the news desk.

Wong was delivering a report, her eyes holding the camera unwaveringly. "C-Sec reports that a turian named Lantar Sidonis has turned himself in for the murder of ten people on Omega. Since Omega has no government that is recognized as such, there is no extradition, and C-Sec is uncertain how it will proceed investigating a claim regarding a crime in another location. Check back for updates on this unusual situation."

Garrus turned away, startled and surprisingly unhappy. What was the value in Sidonis turning himself in? Who benefited from him being locked away in a cell somewhere? No one. He had squared with himself the fact that Sidonis was still alive by telling himself that Sidonis was filled with remorse, and that would lead him to turn his life around, to devote it to the benefit of others.

Zia frowned, obviously confused. "I'm sorry. I thought you'd be glad to hear he did the right thing."

"The right thing? By getting locked up? Come on, Shepard, we both know that's nothing but a waste of a life."

"It's justice, Garrus. You wanted justice."

"I wanted him to atone!" Garrus corrected in an angry whisper, mindful of the people passing around them, and of Grunt, staring at them with great interest, not even pretending to be distracted by the hustle and bustle of the Citadel. "You can't atone in a cell! This is just … It's a pathetic attempt to get out of paying back what he owes."

"I'm sure he doesn't see it that way."

"Of course you're sure," he snapped. "Little Alliance monkey, can't think without your rules and regs guiding you."

Shepard narrowed her brown eyes venomously, the shot having struck home exactly as true and sharp as he had meant it to. "I'll see you back on the _Normandy_."

"What, you're benching me because I'm right?"

"I'm benching you because you're insubordinate. You got a problem with that?" She was in his face now, challenging him with every one of her scant inches of height.

Garrus was right; he knew he was right, and what's more, he was pretty sure she knew it, too. But she was still Commander Shepard, and her orders meant something. Especially here on the Citadel, where she was a Spectre. He was out of line—what was acceptable between the two of them was not acceptable in public. He nodded, confirming that he understood. "My apologies, Commander. I will report back to the ship at once."

"Thank you, Vakarian," she said crisply, turning her back on him and gesturing Grunt to follow. "Send Thane back, please."

Thane. Of course it was Thane, he grumbled to himself. Thane with his courtly ways and his sinuous movements and his flexible body and his expressive black eyes that followed Shepard wherever she went like a man dying of thirst looks at a glass of water. Not that Shepard had ever encouraged the drell in his interest in her, Garrus had to admit to himself. Still, it was hard to imagine she'd chosen the one crewmember he couldn't help comparing himself to as his replacement by accident.

He paced the confines of the forward battery for hours waiting for her to come back from the Citadel, and was relieved when it wasn't long after EDI reported the shuttle had docked that Shepard appeared in the doorway.

"You ready to talk?" she asked.

Garrus punched the button to close and lock the doors. "Are you ready to admit I was right?"

"The rule of law has value, Garrus!"

"Not as much value as actually living your life to the benefit of others. He owes the universe ten lives—how is he going to repay that debt languishing in a cell with three hots and a cot every day? He's pretty well set, when you think of it. Safe, warm, well-fed …"

"You talk about prison like it's a hotel."

"Might as well be."

"Said no one who'd ever actually been there," Shepard snapped.

"You forget, I used to run the Citadel's jails."

"And I just bet you treated your prisoners with kid gloves, making sure they had their milk and cookies at bedtime."

Garrus had to admit that he had not, in fact, treated his prisoners with any kind of gloves.

"I thought not."

"Fine, there are downsides. But you have to admit that no one benefits from Sidonis's life while he sits behind bars."

Shepard nodded. "I had also hoped he would find a way to atone. But you're talking about a man with very little imagination, Garrus. Someone who could think creatively probably could have found a way out of the situation he was in on Omega. Why should he be any different now? He looked for the easiest solution, the most obvious. He found it. And there's no guarantee that he'll go to jail. I talked to Emily and she said they're fairly stumped. No one's ever admitted on the Citadel to committing a crime on Omega before, and Aria T'Loak is hardly the type to take on more work when she can sit there on her couch and laugh at the Citadel being stuck with her problem."

Garrus could see Aria doing just that. And Sidonis had never been a particularly clever man, that much was true. "You have a point," he conceded.

"So do you. I don't mean to say that I think jail is the only answer. You're right, his life would be better used elsewhere."

They looked at each other, not sure where to go from there. "I'm sorry about the Alliance monkey crack. You haven't been that hidebound and rules-shackled in a long time."

"I'm sorry I brought it up in public rather than discussing it in private. I know how personal and painful a subject is. It just … didn't occur to me that you wouldn't be happy about the news, and it should have."

Wordlessly, Garrus opened his arms and Shepard fit herself there against him, so warm and soft and perfect. It wasn't their first fight ever, but it was their first since they became … whatever they now were, and certainly cut closer to the bone than anything they had thrown at one another previously. Garrus was glad to be past it with understanding on both sides.


	27. The Geth

_Thank you for reading!_

* * *

Shepard was armoring up with her usual efficiency. Perhaps more than her usual efficiency. Every latch clicked even more firmly than usual, every piece of equipment was slung over her head with ostentatious purpose, and she was studiously ignoring both Garrus and Tali.

"Shepard, you have to listen to me," Tali tried again.

"We're doing this," Shepard told her, voice muffled through the inside of the top of her hardsuit.

"You can't trust that … thing. It's a geth!" Tali's voice had grown strident in her near-hysteria. She'd been outraged when Shepard had chosen to turn on the geth they had found in the derelict Reaper. And although Garrus understood Shepard's curiosity—the geth had spoken, had known Shepard's name, and was wearing a piece of armor on its body with the N7 logo on it, armor Garrus was sure had once been Shepard's—he had to sympathize with Tali. After all the geth they had all killed together, how could Shepard even consider going off with one onto a geth ship? The thing had told her a tale about all the geth being split into two camps, one that followed the Reapers and one that didn't, and Shepard believed it that there was a way to destroy the geth who followed the Reapers.

"Those things killed my father." Tali's voice was near to breaking, her anger and sorrow too deep to contain.

At that, Shepard stopped with the armor and put a hand on Tali's arm. "I know they did. And I am sorry, you know I am. But if there's a chance to take out the geth who follow the Old Machines, as they call them, to even the playing field even that little bit, don't we have to take it? And if Legion is lying, then we need to know that, too."

It was always her refrain—everything Shepard had done, all along, came at heart from a need to know. Garrus admired that about her, that she let her curiosity lead her into places most would never consider going, but it was foolhardy, as well, and often put her in danger. "Are you sure we shouldn't wait," he asked, "do some recon, scan the ship?"

She looked up at him, studying his face. "You think this is a bad idea, too?"

Garrus looked from Shepard to Tali and back, not really agreeing with either of them. "Yes and no. Tali's right, we've fought and killed so many of these things it's hard to see one as trustworthy, much less as an ally on a mission. But Shepard's right, too, that if we don't go see we'll never really know what the possibilities were."

"So you'll come with me?" Shepard asked, her face brightening with his agreement.

"Of course." If Tali hadn't been there, he would have reached for her, pulled her close, told her once more that there was nowhere she could go that he wouldn't have her back. But even with Tali there, the tone of his voice softened on its own, and Shepard's brown eyes said she understood what he wasn't saying.

"When the two of you are finished," Tali said acidly, "perhaps you can explain why you are taking the word of one of those murderous machines over mine."

"Tali, I promise, I am going to take precautions. I am. And I believe you know as much about the geth as any quarian living. But you don't know as much about the geth as the geth do. Who knows what we'll find on that ship—research, information, parts we can bring back for you to study—" She hurried past that point as Tali winced, remembering that was exactly what her father had been doing when the geth had taken over his ship and killed him. "I'll look for information, Garrus will watch Legion, and whatever we find out we'll give you so you can pass it on to your people. All the better if what we can tell them is that the geth no longer follow the Reapers."

Tali made a disgusted noise at the idea that Shepard might be buying that story.

"I know, you don't think it's possible. Let me go and find out." It was Shepard's persuasive voice. "And if anything happens, you and Grunt bring the other shuttle over and you can kill every geth aboard that ship, including Legion."

"I don't want to have to avenge you, Shepard!"

Garrus didn't particularly want to have to be avenged, either, but it was clear that Shepard had her mind made up, and nothing Tali could say was going to change that. "You won't have to avenge anyone," he assured her now. "I'll get her out of there if things go south." They exchanged a look. Even through her purple visor, Garrus could read the fear in Tali's eyes, fear he shared every time Shepard went on a mission he wasn't part of. They had lost her once; neither of them wanted to lose her again. "I promise."

"Well … just don't trust it, all right?"

"We won't," Shepard said.

"And don't turn your back on it."

"Of course not."

"And … be safe."

"Absolutely." Shepard gave Tali's arm a last squeeze and headed for the shuttle, helmet tucked under her arm.

As they watched her go, Tali asked, "Garrus, do you think she remembers what it was like when she died?"

He shook his head. "Not like we do."

"Take care of her."

"Absolutely."


	28. Collectors

_Thank you for reading!_

* * *

Shepard paced back and forth, arms folded across her chest. Garrus could see what a tight hold she had on herself, how upset she was and how hard she was trying to overcome it and deal with the situation calmly.

"Go over it again," Miranda demanded.

Joker, shivering miserably as he sat on the CIC table, gamely attempted to do just that, detailing as best he could—with interjections from EDI—the arrival on the ship of the Collectors, and his trip through the ducts to unshackle the AI and give EDI control of the ship so she could save it. And him. It had been a damned heroic, and tough, thing for anyone to do, much less for someone whose bones were so brittle he could barely walk. Garrus knew what a burden of guilt the pilot carried over the destruction of the original _Normandy_ and Shepard's death. To have the second _Normandy_ under attack and be unable to save the rest of the crew … well, it was likely more than the broken ankle that had Joker shivering as though the ship had suddenly become a deep freeze.

"You lost everyone? Everyone? And damned near lost the ship, too?" Miranda was standing over him, shouting.

Shepard stepped in, a hand on Miranda's shoulder pulling her back, only a moment before Garrus would have been unable to stop himself from doing so.

"I know, all right?" Joker shouted back. "I was here." He looked up at Shepard. "I tried. I really did."

"Mr. Moreau did exceptionally well under extremely adverse circumstances," EDI said. Garrus thought it seemed like her voice was … softer. More human? But that was impossible. She was just an AI. She didn't have a personality that could change based on circumstances. "If anyone is to blame, I am," the disembodied voice continued. "The harmful data in the Collector drive was even more sophisticated than the 'black box' Reaper viruses I was given."

Shepard looked from person to person, her gaze finally settling on Joker. "I'm sorry I wasn't here." It had been an unusual circumstance—knowing she and her companions would have to work together as a larger unit once they reached the Collector base, she had taken them all together to a training facility on Illium. "If I had only left some people behind …"

Jacob pushed himself away from the wall, unfolding his arms. "What were one or two of us going to do against a Collector ship?"

"If you feel that way, how can you imagine that a dozen of us are going to take out an entire Collector base?" Garrus demanded. He and Jacob had reached a mutual understanding, but not much more than that.

"Beside the point," Shepard said, shaking her head at both of them. She placed a gentle hand on Joker's shoulder. "How are you holding up? Do you need medical attention?"

"No. I can manage the breaks. The rest of it …" Joker's face twisted. "There's a lot of empty chairs in here. I can't help thinking if I had been faster, quicker …" He looked down at his legs in frustration.

"We did everything we could, Jeff," EDI said, and there was no question, her voice was soft, comforting. Almost affectionate. And when had she started calling Joker "Jeff"? And when had he started letting her? Garrus found the questions an intriguing distraction from his own concerns about the rest of the crew. Knowing what had happened to the colonists … He didn't want to think about what Dr. Chakwas was going through right now, or any of the others.

"Is the ship clean, EDI?" Shepard asked.

Joker sat up straighter, pulling himself together. "Yes, EDI and I purged the systems. The Reaper IFF is online. We can go through the Omega 4 relay whenever you want. And, if you don't mind a personal comment, I hope it's sooner rather than later."

Shepard nodded. "I get that. But we want to be prepared, as well. No sense going in without knowing what we're doing and not saving anyone."

"Yeah. I guess."

"Are we not going to talk about unshackling a damned AI?" Miranda demanded.

"He did what was necessary to save the ship. I hope that if I had been here in his place, I would have done the same."

Joker got to his feet with some difficulty, straightening his ballcap. "Thanks, Commander."

"I assure you," EDI said, "I am still bound by protocols in my programming. Even if I were not … you are my crewmates."

"EDI has proven herself trustworthy—and we need all the help we can get. Dismissed," Shepard said crisply, with a glance toward Garrus that said she didn't mean him.

Joker limped for the door, injured more badly than he was willing to let on. Shepard would talk him into letting Miranda take a look at him later, Garrus was sure, once everyone had calmed down.

Jacob and Miranda followed, Miranda still steaming a bit, but beginning to settle now that the initial shock had worn away.

When the doors closed behind them all, Shepard let herself go, bracing her hands on the table and letting her head hang. "I should have been here."

"You can't be here all the time. You can't be everywhere at once, and save everyone. No one can."

"But I want to, silly as that sounds." She raised her head to look at him, tears welling in her brown eyes.

Garrus reached out and pulled her to him, folding his arms around her and holding her while she wept. This was what they had done to her, the galaxy, putting the weight of its salvation on her shoulders. They had taught her that everyone was her responsibility, and everything was her fault. If they survived this trip to the Collector base, he was going to take her away somewhere, let her put down those burdens … at least for a little while.


	29. Now

_Not gonna lie, this one was a little terrifying. Garrus wasn't the only nervous about the melding of turian and human physiology! Thanks for reading!_

* * *

Garrus hesitated in front of Shepard's door, the bottle of wine heavy in his hands. This was a terrible idea, selfish and inappropriately timed, he told himself. Shepard was preparing for the leap through the Omega 4 relay, for the fight of her life, for whatever she would find remained of her crew, some of them beloved friends. It was no time for personal moments, no time for the kind of perfect night together he wanted, if such a thing was even possible.

But if this was it. If they never came back through the Omega 4, if one or both of them died over there, a distinct possibility, then this was the last chance. Could he surrender himself to battle, fight like he had nothing to lose, knowing that he could have had … everything he'd ever wanted, and he'd been afraid to take the chance?

No. Resolutely, he punched the button for the intercom.

It took her a few moments to answer, and her voice was breathless. Had she been sleeping? Had he interrupted her much-needed and too rare rest? He could have kicked himself. When the door opened, he had his mouth open to apologize—and then nothing came out but an undignified squeak. She had not been sleeping; she'd been in the shower. And now she stood before him with skin still damp, rivulets of water running down over her bare shoulders, wearing nothing but a thick white towel she had hastily wrapped around herself and knotted just above her breasts. Something primal and hungry inside Garrus wanted nothing more than to leap on her, rip the towel off, and devour her.

He took a deep breath, pushing back that animal instinct with every ounce of control he could drag together. "I … am sorry to interrupt."

Her eyes were wide, her whole body tense, waiting for him. "Are you?"

Garrus cleared his throat, trying to remember to speak. "I, uh, brought wine." He gestured with the bottle. "Best I could afford on a vigilante's salary."

Shepard smiled, relaxing a bit. "You saying I don't pay you enough, Vakarian?"

He chuckled, edging past her into the room, reaching for the sound system and punching up the song list he had so carefully picked out all those nights trying to work up the courage to do this. The synth-pop filled the room, music to move to, and he turned toward Shepard for her reaction.

She lifted an eyebrow and gave a little shake of the head, as though she couldn't quite believe what was happening.

Well. That was not the reaction he'd been going for. Garrus searched for words in a mind gone totally blank. What was wrong with him? He used to be good at this kind of thing. She wasn't a turian, but maybe … "If you were a turian," he said, "I'd be complimenting your waist or your fringe. So, uh … your … hair looks good." She had almost no hair. It did look good, that wasn't a lie, but it also looked functionally the same every day. Maybe not the right thing? She was still looking at him with that raised eyebrow, as if she thought he had spontaneously lost his mind. It was entirely possible he had. "And your waist is … very supportive?"

"Garrus."

He winced. "Is that offensive in human culture? Crap. I knew I should have watched more vids." Shepard was still looking at him, not moving. "Throw me a line, here, Shepard. I'm drowning out here."

She laughed, coming toward him. "All right, consider me seduced, smooth talker. Now, shut up and stop worrying."

"Easy for you to say," he grumbled.

Reaching out, Shepard punched the music, turning it off. It was a relief to be standing in the silence, with only the familiar sounds of the _Normandy_ around them. She turned to him, her brown eyes soft. "Talk to me."

"It's just … I've seen so many things go wrong, Zia. My work with C-Sec, what happened with Sidonis, the attack on the _Normandy_ … And I want something to go right. Just this once."

She lifted a small, soft hand, and touched his cheek. "It already is. You're here." Her fingertips trailed across his jaw.

"I thought maybe … it was too soon, too close to the Omega 4 …"

Zia's fingers pressed against his mouth, stopping his words. Then she stepped back, her hands going to the knot of the towel, and she let it fall, standing there gloriously, beautifully naked in front of him. "Now, Garrus," she said, her voice hoarse. "Now while we have a chance. Let's not waste another minute."

"No," he agreed, taking a single step toward her, one hand curving around the back of her head, tilting her head up toward him, even as his head lowered until he could meet her mouth with his.

Despite the urgency they both felt, this, their first kiss, was unhurried, slow, as they explored each other. Shepard's hands came up, bunching themselves in the fabric of Garrus's shirt, and he broke the kiss to tear it impatiently off, tossing it … somewhere. He wasn't entirely certain where the bottle of wine had gone. It seemed unnecessary now—Shepard was more intoxicating than the finest vintage he had ever tasted.

He bent, hooking one arm behind her knees, and lifted her, carrying her the short distance to the bed, where he laid her reverently across the covers. For all the time he had spent worrying that he might hurt her, now that he was here with her he felt sure, certain. Hastily he stripped off the rest of his clothes and joined her on the bed.

They lay there together, arms around each other, making small movements of hands and limbs to experience the contrast in their bodies, the sensations of each touch.

"Garrus." Zia's hands were on his face now, drawing his head down to hers, her mouth open for his kiss, and Garrus felt as though he were falling through the bed and through space, drowning in the taste of her. She drew away, pushing him onto his back as she straddled him, leaning down to kiss him again, on the mouth and the mandibles and down across the chest, soft, wet touches of her lips and tongue causing him to shiver. Her hands trailed over his body, her fingers tracing the edges and contours of his carapace.

"Spirits," he murmured weakly. In all his planning, he hadn't anticipated her effect on him, the dizzying strength of the desire coursing through him.

"Worth waiting for?" Zia asked. She moved her body against his, and Garrus groaned at the feeling.

"What was I thinking, wasting all that time?" He rolled her over, kissing her neck.

"I wondered that, too." She arched into his touch as his hands found her breasts, wondering at the heavy softness, the contrasting hardened nipples. Desire surged through him anew at the sounds she made as he explored her, the whimpers and sighs and moans that had sounded so fake in the vids and now here, when it was Shepard making them, were the sweetest music he'd ever heard.

She moved one leg restlessly up and down his, her soft skin stroking his hard bones. At the same time, she slid intimately against him, the friction sharpening his desire until he couldn't bear it any longer.

"Zia, I can't—I need—"

For answer, she arched against him, reaching between them to guide him where he needed to be, and they shuddered in mutual delight as he filled her, moving within her, marveling at the wet heat of her. "Garrus, please. Don't stop."

"No." As if he could have. The weeks, months, years he had waited for this hadn't prepared him in the least for the real thing, and the dizzy overwhelming pleasure was gathering inside him, tightening and spiraling until— "Spirits. Zia! AH!" He gave a final thrust, even as Zia's hands clutched at his arms and she groaned his name.

They lay next to one another, looking up at the stars above her bed, holding hands. "Garrus."

"Yeah?"

"I'm going to want to do this a lot more, so don't die on the other side of that relay, okay?"

"I'll do my best." He propped himself up on one arm, looking down at her beautiful face, silvered in the light from the stars. "Does that mean you promise to come back, too?"

"For this?" She smiled. "Damn straight."

"Good." He bent to kiss her, slowly and thoroughly. "Just in case you need further motivation, I think we should do it again."

"Well, if you insist."

"Oh, I do. I really do."


	30. Alive

_Thank you for reading!_

* * *

Shepard tossed and moaned in her sleep. Garrus could make out names—his own, and those of the others who had been with her at the Collector base. Reaching out, he put a hand gently on her shoulder. "I'm here, Zia. I'm here."

After a moment, she quieted, turning on her side and settling into what appeared to be a deeper sleep. She hadn't slept since before they went through the Omega 4, and they had come back through—yesterday, the day before? Garrus had lost track. Eventually, he had all but carried her onto the elevator in order to get her to stand down long enough to get some rest, and even at that, it had taken most of a bottle of wine to get her to relax enough to drift off.

Not that he blamed her. For as much as they had dreaded the invasion of the Collector base, the reality had been worse. He could still vividly remember the faces of the colonists trapped in the Reaper pods who had … melted, in front of their eyes, as they stood and watched in horror. After the loss of the first colonist, Shepard had galvanized her people to start breaking the pods open, and in the end they had rescued all their own people and about half a dozen Horizon colonists, but had been too late for the others. It had been personal for them all after that, even the non-humans all too easily able to imagine their own people being used that way next. No one had balked at doing whatever it might take to finish the job.

Thane had taken the survivors back to the ship, where from all accounts they had rallied from their horrific experience and aided Joker and EDI in getting the _Normandy_ operational again.

Next to him, Zia shifted, moaning again, and he reached for her hand. She held on to it as though it was a lifeline, taking it in both of hers and holding it against her chest. Garrus held his breath, waiting to see if she would wake, but she settled, and he breathed a sigh of relief.

Looking at her there, seeing the weariness in her face, the dark smudges under her eyes, Garrus remembered vividly the moment at the end, after the embryonic human Reaper had been defeated, after the Illusive Man had made his pitch to save the Collector base and been denied, when he had come back to consciousness in the middle of the Collector base knowing that the whole place was about to blow and couldn't find her. How he and Jack had dug frantically through the rubble, neither of them willing to leave without her despite Joker's increasingly strident pleas through their comms to get out of there. How pale she had been behind her mask when they finally did uncover her, how still and unmoving. How he had been afraid she wouldn't wake up, then afraid they wouldn't make it after she had come to and they were running for their lives. Those had been the longest moments of his life, worse even than when it had become clear she wasn't in the pod with Joker after the destruction of the first _Normandy_.

But now she was here, and he was here. They had survived the trip through the relay, survived the destruction of the Collector base. They had their future ahead of them—and a future without Cerberus, it seemed. After Shepard had rejected the Illusive Man's plea to retain the base for research, it appeared Cerberus had washed their hands of her and the _Normandy_ at once. It didn't make sense to Garrus, after what it must have cost Cerberus to rebuild Shepard and recreate the ship, but it seemed that the whole thing had been a plan by the Illusive Man to gain control of the Collector base and learn their secrets. In Shepard's shoes, Garrus probably would have kept the base—when you had a useful piece of intel, it was worth considering what to do with it. But he couldn't argue with destroying it, either, especially after having watched those people get melted in their pods.

He turned a little further onto his side, stretching out along the length of Zia's body, matching his hard edges to her curves, feeling the relief of having her here safe in his arms. There hadn't been a guarantee that any of them would make it back. They had almost lost Kasumi in the tunnels and Samara while she held a biotic barrier over them against the Seeker swarms. In the end, Zaeed had fallen, the grizzled old mercenary overcome by the Collectors, and Mordin. The salarian had gone down protecting the injured Miranda. Their bodies had been recovered from the Collector ship, the other companions unwilling to leave them behind even in death. Mordin's body would be returned to Sur'Kesh, to his people, and Zaeed's would be jettisoned out into space. Garrus imagined he would like that. Especially if his pod were to crash into a Blue Suns ship and cause it to flame out. Chuckling at the thought, Garrus made a mental note to mention the idea to Shepard when she woke.

She was deeply asleep now, her body limp and warm against his. Garrus considered getting up, but he was comfortable and she was soft and alive, her deep breathing a lullaby. He blinked sleepily. Maybe just a little nap.

He awoke to Zia looking down at him. "Hey. You going to sleep forever?"

Garrus had no idea how long he had been asleep. The whole jaunt through the Omega 4 and back had ruined his internal clock. "Why?" he asked groggily. "We have somewhere to be?"

"No. But we might have some better things to do." She smiled. "Like celebrate being alive."

"I take it you have some ideas how we should do that."

She slid against him, and he noticed with some surprise that she was no longer wearing any clothes. "I might at that. Any objections?"

"None at all."


	31. Business

_Thank you for reading!_

* * *

It was a quite group of companions Shepard gathered around her in the mess. They had come from the memorial service for Zaeed, after which his pod had been jettisoned into space. Now they were gathered around the tables with glasses of Earth whiskey, toasting their fallen comrade. None of them had known Zaeed particularly well—he had kept mostly to himself, and when he had mingled with the rest, he had been … prickly, to say the least. But he had been one of them, and the loss was still sobering. They had all said when they went through the Omega 4 that they were prepared not to come back, but none of them had been prepared for anyone else not to come back. At least, that's how Garrus felt, and how he suspected the rest of them did as well.

Shepard held out her glass. The liquor shimmered a deep golden brown in the glare of the overhead light. "To Zaeed. May he find his rest in the stars. And to Mordin. I hope he finds something to do in whatever the salarian version of the afterlife may be."

"To Mordin and Zaeed," the rest of them chorused, and drank, a lot or a little according to their natures.

"I'll say this for the old bastard, he had good taste in booze," Jack said, refilling her glass. She topped off Grunt's while she was at it.

Shepard cleared her throat, looking at the two of them with caution. Garrus could tell she wanted to get the business out of the way before they were too drunk to pay attention. "As you know, the Illusive Man's plan all along was for us to clear the Collector base but leave it for Cerberus."

There was silence as everyone looked at Miranda, who glared at them all. Garrus couldn't tell if she was angry at the Illusive Man or just wanted them to stop looking at her.

"And, as you also know," Shepard continued, "I refused, and I blew that foul place to hell." There was a grim satisfaction in her voice.

"As you should have," Samara said.

Grunt … grunted, smacking one fist into the other palm. "Only better thing would have been ripping them all to pieces with our hands."

Shepard smiled at him. "We'd have been there into the next century."

"Good thing to do with your time."

"Yes, but for those of us without the krogan lifespan, an explosion was a far more efficient way to do it." Grunt subsided, seeming to accept that. "Anyway, I've cut off contact with the Illusive Man. Cerberus may or may not be coming to take the _Normandy_ from me, to extract a pound of flesh from me to make up for the money they spent bringing me back from the dead."

"'You can always judge a man by the quality of his enemies,'" murmured Kasumi. "Oscar Wilde," she clarified when everyone looked at her. Shepard, Thane, and Miranda nodded as though the name was familiar to them, while everyone else looked mystified.

"Whoever he was, he made sense," Grunt observed, taking the nearly-empty bottle from Jack's hand.

Thane smiled. "Sometimes."

Shepard looked at the group of them. "Do you mind if I get back to business?"

"Not at all, Battlemaster."

"Thank you." She rolled her eyes. "So, that's the situation. We have the ship for now, we've pissed off Cerberus, we're not part of the Alliance …" Looking around at each of them. "Look, each of you went into hell with me, expecting that there was a good possibility you wouldn't be coming back. I will never forget that, and I owe each of you a debt I can never repay—"

"You have given us enough. More than enough," Samara told her, and there were solemn nods all around the room.

"Thank you." There was no sarcasm in Shepard's voice this time. "But now your obligations to me are ended, and you are free to return to your lives. Or you're welcome to stay aboard. The choice is yours."

Silence as everyone looked at each other uncomfortably. At last, Thane cleared his throat. "The next time we have reason to stop at the Citadel, I would like to join my son. Now that— We have a great deal to catch up on."

"Of course. We can set a course for there first thing, lacking anywhere better to go."

"I think that's my stop, too, Shep," Kasumi told her. "I've got some … intriguing job offers now that people know what happened at Donovan Hock's."

"I'm with you, Battlemaster," Grunt spoke up.

Next to him, Jack raised her glass. "Hell, yeah!"

Tali shifted uncomfortably in her seat, started to speak, then settled back.

"Shall we return you to the Migrant Fleet?" Shepard asked her.

"I … Yes, please. I hate to leave you, Shepard."

"I'll miss you. But you need to be with your people."

Tali nodded. "Yes."

Before anyone else could speak, Joker's voice came through the speakers. "Shepard?"

"You leaving me, too, Joker?"

"Hell, no. I'm staying with the _Normandy_ … I mean, you, as long as there's space to fly through. No, we're coming up on a planet … I should have noticed where we are."

Shepard frowned. "Joker?"

"It's the _Normandy_ , Commander. The first one. I thought maybe you might—"

Garrus cast a stricken look at her. He wasn't sure he wanted to see that surface again, relive that moment when they all realized she was gone and never coming back. But he felt a need to see it, as well, to give closure to that time. What Zia was thinking, he wasn't certain. Her eyes were wide, her face pale, but she was calm and composed.

"Bring us into orbit, Joker. I'm on my way up." She looked around the room. "Thank you all. We'll make the Citadel our next stop, the Migrant Fleet after that. Jacob, Samara, Miranda, if you let me know where you want to be left, we can add your stops to the list."

Garrus was surprised she assumed Miranda would want to go, but then, she had been the one most affected by the break with Cerberus, and the one most closely tied with the company, so maybe Shepard wanted her off the ship for security reasons. Samara would return to her work as a justicar. And Jacob … well, Garrus had no clue what Jacob wanted, but he certainly wasn't going to miss him when he left.

When the others had filed out of the room, he went across the room to Shepard, putting a hand on her shoulder. "You going to be okay?"

"I think so. You?"

"As long as you promise me never to die again, I can handle anything."

"It's a deal." She smiled and turned her face up for a kiss to seal her promise.


	32. Any Member of This Crew

_Thank you for reading!_

* * *

"Tali, are you sure you don't want to come with us?" Shepard asked.

The quarian shook her head decidedly in the negative. "I saw enough of that planet the first time. It was—more than enough." She shivered, wrapping her arms around herself.

Garrus didn't blame her. He didn't particularly want to see the planet again, either, to witness the wreckage of the first _Normandy_ and hear again in memory the hissing of the snow as the burning pieces of the ship fell into it, the screams of pain of the wounded and dying, the sobs from his fellow crewmembers, frightened and cold … to relive the moment when they opened the pod and discovered Shepard wasn't in it. Dr. Chakwas had taken charge that day, her calm efficiency keeping them all together. She didn't want to see it again, either, preferring to keep her memories in the past where they belonged, as she said.

But Shepard needed to go. She wanted to find some trace of the crewmembers who had died, something to return to their families, and apparently she was carrying a plaque aboard with them to commemorate the loss of the ship and those of the crew who had gone with it. And if Shepard was going, Garrus was. Not only because he agreed that the mission was important—but because he wanted to be there for Zia in case it was too much for her, seeing it all for the first time.

"You ready?" she said to him now.

"You go ahead and suit up. I'll be right down."

As the elevator doors closed behind her, he turned toward the cockpit. Obviously, there was no question of Joker going down to the planet's surface—and he had been unconscious most of the time as they waited for rescue, so his memories of it would be hazy anyway—but Garrus wanted to make sure he was all right.

"Get out of here, Vakarian," Joker warned as soon as the cockpit doors slid open. "I'm fine."

"You sound fine," Garrus agreed.

Joker swiveled his chair around. "I don't need your sarcasm. Look, you want to go down there and dance around in the snow, you be my guest."

"You're the one who brought us here."

The pilot winced as the shot hit home. "Yeah, so, I figured … closure, right?"

"For you, or for her?"

"Does it matter?"

Garrus's comm link crackled. "You on your way?"

"Be right down," he told Shepard. "Look," he said to Joker, "she doesn't blame you. I think you should stop blaming yourself."

"Easy for you to say."

"Hey, I left, too. She told Kaidan to go, made him, to come up here after you herself. You think we don't carry that guilt, that we could have saved her if we'd tried harder? You were stuck up here, trying to save the ship, unable to move. You're the only one who couldn't have done anything other than what you did. And you and I both know that she would rather have died trying to save you than lived knowing you had died." He thought of Zaeed, and Mordin, and Ashley, and of the way Zia called their names in her nightmares. "Any of us."

"I know that." For a moment, it looked like Joker was going to say more, but it passed. "Look, you'd better go."

"Yeah. You going to be okay?"

Joker shrugged. "When am I ever?" And he turned his chair around, ending the conversation.

Zia was watching as Garrus approached the shuttle. "Joker all right?"

Garrus smiled, repeating Joker's words. "When is he ever?"

"Point." She took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. "Let's get this over with."

The planet was as cold as Garrus remembered, the chill seeping into his bones even through his armor, and the scene as gruesome as he had feared. Twisted pieces of wreckage lay everywhere, their snowcover blown away by the sharp winds, and larger pieces rose from the snow like mountains.

Shepard carried the plaque with her, walking slowly, almost reverently, toward the side of the ship, curving up into the sky. She ran her fingers along the word "Normandy" emblazoned on the metal, then stepped back and scraped away the snow with her foot before placing the plaque down. "So that we can never forget," she said softly.

Garrus would never forget anyway, but if it made the humans feel better to leave another hunk of cold metal down here on the planet, that was no business of his.

Touching the side of the ship once more, affectionately, Shepard turned around. "Now for the hard part."

"It's all the hard part."

She reached out and gripped his hand, a quick gesture. "You have the list of casualties?"

"Yes."

"Let's see what we can find."

It was torture for her, Garrus could see, sifting through the rubble, turning over bodies looking for dog tags, prying pieces of armor out of the ice. The cold had kept the process of decay slow—most of the dead looked as though they had only just departed, rather than having spent the last two years lying in the midst of the ice fields. Shepard's sense of responsibility hung in the air, almost heavy enough to touch. These had been her people, and she felt a fierce guilt over their loss. Not that she could have changed anything, kept the Collectors from coming screaming through space toward them, but she wanted to have been able to.

Near what had been the CIC, they found a cracked datapad near the body of Navigator Pressly. Shepard lifted it, touching a finger hesitantly to its surface. To her surprise and Garrus's, the screen lit up. Most of what they could find was garbled beyond recognition, but a few words stood out, enough to paint the picture of a man who had feared and distrusted the aliens aboard the _Normandy_ at first, and then grown to know and like them over time. His final recorded words were: "I'm proud to say … die for any member of this crew, regardless of what world they were born on."

They stood over the datapad in silence for a long time. It was so still Garrus could hear the silvery ring of the snowflakes landing on the metal all around them.

At last Shepard looked up, her eyes bright with tears behind the glass of her mask. "This is what we did it for," she said. "This is why—who we are. Let's take this back and put it up as a reminder to all of us that people can change, that they can learn to live and work together. And love each other." She reached for his hand, holding it tightly, even as she clutched the datapad in the other.

"Good idea." The words came out rusty and thick, pushed past Garrus's own emotion. He had played chess with Pressly once or twice, never known the man particularly well, but he had felt the gradual shift in his level of friendliness over time—the gradual shift most of the human crew had made, on the first _Normandy_ and the second.

Shepard shivered, cold even in her hardsuit, and he said, "Shall we go back?"

"Yes." She glanced around, shivered again, only partially with cold, and nodded. "Yes, let's. I think we've done everything we can here."

On the way back to the shuttle, Garrus tripped over something buried in the snow. Cursing under his breath—he had been trying to be so careful to avoid disturbing the last rest of any of his former shipmates—he knelt to brush the snow off the object he had tripped on, startled to find the bright red and white of the N7 logo staring up at him. Digging a little further, he pulled out a helmet. Shepard's helmet, he realized. Had to be. She had been the only N7 on the _Normandy._

Ahead of him, she turned to call back, "Everything all right?"

"Fine." Hastily he tucked the helmet into the pack of other mementoes and relics he was carrying. Time enough to show it to her later.


	33. Everything that She Was

_Thank you for reading!_

* * *

In the shuttle, Shepard reached for Garrus's pack. "What did you find down there? That last thing."

"It can wait. Maybe back in your room."

She glanced up at him sharply. "Garrus."

"Yeah. Okay." He sighed. "Open it."

Shepard took the helmet out, turning it on the tips of her gloved fingers. "This is mine."

"I know."

"My god. Did you know it was that bad?"

"I didn't see you."

She turned the helmet over again, noting the shattered glass of the faceplate, the dents and scorch marks on the outer plastic. "What the hell am I?" she asked, softly, almost to herself.

Garrus was unable to look at her as he engaged the docking mechanism, and wished to the spirits he had made her wait until they were back home before she looked at it. "You're Zia Shepard," he told her fiercely.

"Am I? Look at this, Garrus. If my helmet was in this kind of shape, what must my head have looked like? How much did they have to do to rebuild me? For all I know, maybe I'm just a more sophisticated version of EDI."

"You can't think that way. You'll drive yourself crazy."

"It didn't take much," she muttered under her breath, turning the helmet over in her hands again. As soon as the shuttle was docked, she was out of it, bolting for the elevators. Garrus had a fairly good idea where she was going, so he followed her once he'd had a chance to stow the bags of mementoes they had gathered so carefully on the planet's surface. He could hear her shouting as soon as the elevator doors opened.

"Explain this, then! If there was so much 'organic material', how is my helmet in this condition?"

"The helmet took the brunt of the impact. Well-made piece of equipment," Miranda commented. When the doors to her office opened, she glanced at Garrus, but returned her attention to the helmet almost immediately. "Believe it or not, Shepard, I never saw this. You'd been on ice for a couple of weeks before Liara managed to smuggle you out of the Shadow Broker's clutches and get you to Cerberus. You looked pretty bad then—I've never pretended otherwise."

"Just tell me how much of me is me, damn it! Stop dancing around the question."

Miranda looked up from the helmet, meeting Shepard's eyes squarely. "60%, give or take.'

"60%." Shepard seemed shocked. "I'm … half machine."

"Not exactly. We filled in those parts that were missing or too damaged to repair with cybernetics in some places, yes, but in other places we used grafts from other humans."

"Parts," Shepard repeated. "Missing parts."

Garrus stepped further into the room, putting his hand on Shepard's shoulder. "It's a lot to take in, Miranda."

"Yes. Sorry. It was a lot of work, Shepard. You were—you were dead. But the Illusive Man was committed to bringing back Commander Shepard, everything that she was, from the inside out. He spared no expense—and I don't think I have to tell you, those expenses were massive."

"So … I'm a robot."

"No. Shepard, you're no different from a biotic. They have their implants, you have yours." Miranda moved toward Shepard, looking down earnestly into her eyes. "You are yourself. We didn't change you or alter you in any way. I promise you that."

"I …" Seeming dazed, Shepard took the helmet from Miranda's hands. "I—Thank you. That will be all." She turned and left.

"That was the truth?" Garrus asked Miranda once she was gone.

"It was. The Illusive Man was very clear that anything that changed who she was compromised the chances the mission would succeed—that we needed the real Commander Shepard, everything that she was. I did a very good job," Miranda added, stating it for the fact it was.

"Yes, you did," Garrus assured her before hastening to follow Zia. He was just too late to catch her before the elevator doors closed, but he knew where she was going, so he followed her up again, keying in the code to the quarters that were basically theirs by this point.

He found her sitting on the couch, staring at the helmet on the table in front of her as if mesmerized. "Parts, Garrus. Missing parts. She was talking about me—as if I was Frankenstein's monster."

"Whose monster?"

She shook her head impatiently. "Never mind. It's a human thing."

He nodded. "Right. Look, Zia, Miranda's a scientist. She looked at the situation as a problem to be solved, and I think sometimes she forgets you weren't with her every step of the way."

"Do you believe her? That they didn't—change me?"

Garrus sat down on the couch next to her, gently turning her face toward him. "Of course I do. Not just because Miranda doesn't lie very well, but because I know you, inside and out, and you are the Zia Shepard I fell in love with."

Her brown eyes widened. "You did? You fell in love with me?" she asked softly, her voice filled with wonder.

"Yes. Just like you did with me," he added, remembering what she had said on the planet, about learning to love another species. "I love you, Zia. If you were different, I would know. And I would tell you, I promise."

"I know you would." There was absolute trust in her eyes, and Garrus quivered under the power of that look. How he had gotten so lucky as this, he didn't know.

Still holding her face between his hands, he kissed her, soft and slow. Then, piece by piece, he removed her hardsuit and everything she wore underneath it, kissing the skin as he bared it, stroking her until she was gasping and sighing with her pleasure, all of her fear and distress washed away by sensation.

Her legs parted beneath him as he settled himself gently on top of her, the intimate friction exciting them both before he slid inside, taking his time, making every movement last. He wanted her to feel that he had touched every part of her, that he saw and loved her for everything that she was.

"Garrus." Her eyes were shining with tears, and she pulled his head down to hers for another kiss even as her body tightened around him, and they rode to the top of the peak together.


	34. Debrief

_Thank you for reading!_

* * *

Unable to stop himself, Garrus gathered Zia up in his arms as tightly as he could the moment she stepped out of the airlock. Normally they tried to keep their relationship low-key in public, but this was hardly a normal situation. He held her at arm's length, looking her over. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine."

"Are you sure? That was … I was out of my mind worrying about you, not knowing where you were."

She smiled, cupping his mandible with one hand. "You're sweet."

"Commander Shepard." Dr. Chakwas stood behind Garrus. "You need to come upstairs to the med bay and get checked out."

"Yes, I think that's a good idea."

"I'm coming, too," Garrus said, clinging to her hand.

Shepard shook her head. "I'll talk to you later. I have to be debriefed, and that's not … I have to talk to Hackett myself." She glanced at Chakwas over his shoulder. "He's on his way, isn't he?"

"Yes. Should be here within the hour. Just enough time for me to run all the tests I need."

Squeezing Garrus's hand, Shepard said, "Wait for me upstairs. I'll come up as soon as I'm finished."

Reluctantly, he let her go. He never wanted to have to do that again. The days she had been gone, out of contact, had been a nightmare, thinking he had lost her again. If it were up to him, he'd spirit her away, run off with the _Normandy_ and all its crew if he had to, off to some quiet planet on the edge of space where no one would think to look for them. They were all due a good long break, weren't they?

It seemed to take forever for her to finish with the debrief, every passing moment making his carapace itch more with anxiety. What had happened down there? It was supposed to be a simple rescue mission, get into a batarian prison and rescue a doctor working with the Alliance, and it had ended on a space station by blowing up a mass effect relay and destroying a batarian colony. Something hadn't been right from the start, as far as Garrus was concerned, and he wished now he had been able to convince her not to go in alone the way the Alliance had demanded she do. If only he'd been with her—

Behind him, the doors finally opened, and his long legs took him to her in just a couple of strides, pulling her close. "Spirits, Zia, don't ever do that to me again. I swear, I am not letting you out of my sight from now on."

She cleared her throat, gently disentangling herself from his embrace. "About that …"

"What?"

"I have to go to Earth. They're convening a tribunal."

"The batarians?"

Shepard nodded. "They're furious, and rightfully so. God, Garrus." There were tears in her brown eyes. "I didn't want it to end that way. I didn't! I tried to stop it. But Keniston and her people were indoctrinated. They were going to let the Reapers through. The invasion is coming. It could have come today, if I hadn't destroyed that relay. One colony versus the safety of the whole galaxy. I had to make that decision in a split second, and I picked the greater threat. But how can I convince the batarians that threat was real when no one in the galaxy even believes in the Reapers? One day they're just going to be here, and no one is going to be ready."

"You will."

"That's not enough."

It wasn't. Garrus held her close, letting her get her tears out. When the storm had passed, he looked down at her. "Don't go."

"What do you mean, don't go?"

"What I said. Don't go to the tribunal. If the Reapers are waiting out there, just looking for the mass relay that will bring them into our space, you can't afford to be stuck on Earth in a lot of pointless meetings. You have to be out there getting ready."

"I don't disagree in theory, but in practice, I can't do anything alone. If I'm going to prepare anyone, I have to start with Earth and the Alliance. I know people, my mother knows people—between us, maybe I can get someone to listen."

He made a noise of disgust and impatience. "Still on about the Alliance? They'll never move fast enough, Shepard, even if you could convince them of the threat."

"There are channels, Garrus! It starts with placating the batarians, and I do that by going where I'm told and answering the questions that are posed to me and explaining the situation."

"All they'll hear is fairy tales! Look how quickly and conveniently the entire galaxy forgot the existence of Sovereign."

"Anderson didn't. Hackett didn't."

"Anderson and Hackett are soldiers. They understand. The kind of people who convene tribunals aren't soldiers and they will never understand the decisions you've made."

They glared at each other, and then Zia blinked and looked away. "Tell me what you would do, then, Garrus. The batarians won't understand, the Alliance won't understand, the Council won't understand. Do you want me to just sit on my hands and wait and then try to take down the Reapers by ourselves, the _Normandy_ against an entire ancient civilization? It took the Citadel defenses and the Alliance fleet to take down just one of them!"

He started to answer, but he realized he would just be shooting off his mouth, that he really didn't have the answer. "Come to Palaven," he said at last, desperately. "My people are fighters; they'll believe."

"Do they? Do they believe in Sovereign?"

Garrus was forced to admit that it seemed they didn't.

"Then I have to do this my way, Garrus. I have to go to Earth and sit for the tribunal."

He wanted to argue, to keep her from going. Something in him was paralyzed with terror at the idea of letting her go again. But she was right, she needed to do this her way, and if the Alliance were ever going to believe that the Reapers were a true threat, she was the only one who could convince them. "I know you do," he said at last, painfully. Holding out his arms, he held her close. "Let me go with you."

"No." She leaned back to look up at his face. "It wouldn't be safe for you. I'll be dropping off every non-human, and everyone who has close Cerberus ties, before we go. I'm—I'm taking the _Normandy_ back to the Alliance as a gesture of goodwill."

"Do you have to? Joker would land somewhere out of the way and wait for your signal, and he would come for you if you needed it. We could keep the _Normandy_ , fly it away somewhere …"

Zia reached up, touching his mandible lightly with her fingertips, stroking it gently. Garrus quivered under the touch. "And when the Reapers come?"

He perched on the back of the couch, pulling her with him, resting his forehead against hers. "Will it ever end? Will we ever be able to rest, to stop fighting, to just … live?"

"Yes. Someday, we will."

He liked the assurance in her voice, even if it wasn't true. "Are you lying?"

She gave a soft laugh. "Probably. But it sounds good." Taking his face in both hands, she looked deep into his eyes. "This much I do promise—if I ever retire, it'll be with you."

"I'll take it." Pulling her close, he kissed her. "I won't see you again for—"

"A long time. Tribunals are never fast."

"Then … let's make tonight last us as long as we can."


	35. Home to Palaven

_Thank you for reading!_

* * *

With Shepard gone to Earth, taking the _Normandy_ with her as a peace offering to the Alliance, Garrus had thought he might find himself at loose ends. But instead he felt an urgency—if Shepard was going to be locked away on Earth, unable to do anything but await the tribunal and the batarians' convenience, someone had to be out here preparing for the arrival of the Reapers. He couldn't forget how chillingly close the Reapers had come already. If Shepard hadn't arrived on that space station, they would already be here, the war begun before half the galaxy was aware it was coming.

She had left him on the Citadel, and he considered going to his superiors in C-Sec, or to the Council. But the Council had never listened to Shepard—they were responsible for the disappearance of Sovereign from the official records of the Battle of the Citadel, after all—why would they listen to him? And C-Sec had no real power. There was no help to be had there. He did drop in to see Captain Bailey, who had helped Shepard, and Thane, and mentioned that beefing up security and preparing for a major galaxy-wide threat might not be a bad idea.

Bailey looked at him with weary blue eyes. "We've got our hands full just dealing with everyday stuff here in Zakera Ward. You think we have time to do the rest of C-Sec's job for them?"

"No," Garrus admitted. "I don't, really. But I know no one else is going to listen to me, and I'm hoping a word in your ear will at least help when the Reapers come."

"I'll keep my ear out," Bailey agreed, after a long hard look at Garrus to make sure his leg wasn't being pulled. "I remember Sovereign, unlike many here. If there's anything I can do to prepare, I'll do it."

"All I can ask. Thanks." Garrus shook his hand.

"What will you do?"

Much as it pained him, there was only one option left to him. "I'm going home to Palaven."

"Good luck."

"I'll need it," Garrus agreed.

Little as he wanted to throw himself on his father's mercy, the turians were the race most likely to be able and willing to mobilize against the Reapers. Garrus had never been particularly persuasive, and especially not where his father was concerned, but if Shepard could do it, if she could face the Alliance and the batarians and hold firm to her principles, he could face his father and the rest of the turian hierarchy.

He arrived on Palaven to find little had changed. His sister Solana still worked hard and was twice the turian Garrus had ever been, his father still was never satisfied with her performance, and he greeted Garrus with a weary sigh. "So, another experiment with your human has failed, I see. And now you are back to live on my charity until such time as you 'turn your life around'." He didn't bother to add that Garrus's last attempt at turning his life around had been the decision to become a merc on Omega, and had nearly gotten Garrus killed. He didn't need to. Every disappointed look Garrus had missed while he was off-world was there in his voice.

"It's a little more nuanced than that, Dad. She's been called back to Earth for an important tribunal."

His father snorted. "You mean the batarians are calling for her head on a spike. Everyone in the galaxy knows what she did."

"But everyone in the galaxy doesn't know why! You have to listen to me. The Reapers are real—and they're coming."

Garrus didn't expect to be taken seriously. But suddenly his father was looking at him, a long, searching look that really saw Garrus for the first time in a very long while. Abruptly, he said, "Tell me everything."

So Garrus did. Sitting at the table with his father and sister, he started at the beginning, with Saren and the geth and Eden Prime and the Prothean beacon, and kept going, all the way up to the Alpha relay and the close call that had been. When he was finished, they sat over their empty dinner plates, staring at him in dismay.

"You have seen all of this with your own eyes?"

"Not all, but more than enough. I saw Saren at the battle of the Citadel; I saw Sovereign. That was … like nothing I've ever seen before. I'm— The galaxy isn't ready. I'm not sure it ever could be, but wasting these past few years pretending it's not coming hasn't helped."

"Then what can we do?" Solana asked. "You sound as though you think we should give up."

"Give up!? Never. We mobilize. We prepare. We take the knowledge we have and we use it in whatever way we can."

His father got to his feet. "Come with me."

"Where?"

"We are going to see the Primarch."

"The Primarch?" Garrus felt a bit slow sitting here echoing everything his father was saying, but this reaction was so far from the skepticism he had anticipated he wasn't sure he was really experiencing it, or if he was asleep and this was some sort of dream.

"Are you serious about mobilizing, or do you want to sit there and wring your hands?"

"Mobilize," Garrus said hastily, getting up. "Definitely."

He followed his father and found himself in the entirely unexpected position of giving advice to the Primarch of Palaven on how to prepare for the Reaper invasion. And when he walked out of the Primarch's office, he had the even more unexpected position of heading a task force to oversee Palaven's preparations. The Primarch had been a tough sell, but the weight of Garrus's father's inexplicable sudden belief in his son's veracity, knowledge, and capabilities had eventually tipped the balance.

It was an odd feeling, to suddenly have the safety of his entire species on his shoulders. He wished he could have reached Shepard on Earth to compare notes and tell her that he maybe finally understood. Someday, he hoped. Someday soon.


	36. Reapers

_Thank you for reading!_

* * *

"Garrus!" His sister's voice was urgent; reminiscent of so many mornings in their childhood, when Garrus would try for a few minutes' extra sleep and she would be impatient to get going.

"In a minute," he groaned.

"You have to get up now."

The sharpness of her tone, the fear in it, brought him to full wakefulness. He got quickly out of bed and left the room, squinting at her in the darkness. It was hours before either of them needed to be up and going anywhere. "What's wrong? Is it Dad?"

"No. Garrus, look." She turned the screen of her personal terminal around so that he could see it. At first, he wasn't certain what he was seeing. Some kind of vid game? He had never known Solana to play games, but all sorts of things seemed to have changed in his last absence. Then he looked more closely. He had seen beings, structures … _things_ like that before. They were Reapers.

"What's happening? Where is that?"

"It's …" Solana swallowed, turning to him and putting a hand on his shoulder. "It's Earth."

"Earth?" he repeated blankly. "No, that can't be. They were in batarian space before, how could they be in human—" And then it struck him, like a blow from a concussive round. Shepard. They had gone to Earth first because of Shepard, because there was no one in the galaxy they wanted dead more—because no one else in the galaxy posed anywhere near the kind of threat she did. And because they didn't want any other exceptional humans thinking they could stand up against the Reapers and succeed.

"I'm so sorry," Solana whispered.

It was on the tip of Garrus's tongue to snap at her, to tell her it wasn't possible for Shepard to be dead. But of course, it was possible. In fact, it was probable. Shepard was being held at Alliance headquarters, which would have been one of the highest priority targets for the Reapers. They would have destroyed it. He sat down in front of the terminal, peering more closely at the carnage on the screen. "London", it said. Garrus had heard of London—an important Earth city. It was being decimated. If the Reapers were hitting that this hard, what were the odds that one person in an even higher priority target area would survive? Shepard had taken the _Normandy_ back to Earth with her, as a peace offering to the Alliance. So Joker was dead, too. The Reapers knew the _Normandy_. He put a hand over his face, the weight of his grief and despair pressing down on him.

Solana squeezed his shoulder. "Garrus, we need you. You know more about these things than anyone else—" She caught herself before she could say "living". "We need your help if we're going to prepare for this."

He lifted his head to look at her. "Prepare for it? Do you see that screen? Do you see what's happening? And that's just in the part we can see. They're running a loop because the communications relays were knocked out. You know what must have happened after that. How do you prepare for that?"

"Yesterday you thought you could. Yesterday you were full of plans for your task force and what you were going to need to do."

"Yesterday Shepard was alive," he whispered, feeling the depth of sorrow settling back on his shoulders.

"I know you admired her, but—"

"No. I didn't admire her. I mean, I did, but that was only part of it. I loved her, Solana."

"Yes, of course you did. She was your good friend."

He frowned, wondering how it was possible that his feelings for Shepard didn't hang about him in a cloud for everyone to see. "She was my good friend, and my commander, and my—" His what? Lover seemed inadequate, girlfriend trivial. "She was my everything, Solana. I loved her in every way possible—and she loved me."

"A human? I mean … I'm sorry, I'm just surprised. I didn't realize …"

"Apparently not. I suppose I haven't been a very good brother, have I?"

"You've been busy."

"Too busy, if it meant I kept such an important part of my life from you." He looked at her closely. "What about you? What parts of your life have I missed?"

Touched by his words, Solana reached for his hand. Then she glanced over his shoulder at the screen and the tension and fear returned to her. "There's no time now, Garrus. We need your help now. We'll talk later."

"Will there be a later?"

"Would Commander Shepard have asked that question?"

Garrus was forced to admit that she would not have. Shepard had always believed that she would succeed at whatever impossible task she had set herself to. At least, she had put on that face with everyone but him. He would have to do the same, holding back his own doubts and fears in order to build up the confidence of those around him.

He stood up, switching off the terminal, blackness replacing the looped scenes of carnage. "You're right, Solana. She wouldn't have. Thank you."

His sister nodded. "I'm sorry she's gone, Garrus. I would have liked to have met her."

"I would have liked that, too." He put his arms around her, holding her tight. "I … love you. You know that?"

She twisted her head to look up at him in surprise. Turians weren't known for spontaneous declarations or gestures of affection. "I love you, too," she said at last.

"Good. Now, go get dressed. They'll need both of us out there."

The despair he had felt earlier wasn't gone. The loss of Shepard, the sudden strike of the Reapers, hovered like a shadow at the back of his mind. But he would not dwell on it. Not now. Maybe someday when there was time, he would break down and cry. For now, he would honor her memory as it deserved to be honored—by getting out there and figuring out a way to kick some Reaper ass.


	37. Anything Was Possible

_Sorry about the unscheduled posting gap - summer! We should be good for a while now. Thank you for reading!_

* * *

"Vakarian! Back to base camp, on the double."

Garrus squinted through the dust rising from the moon's surface, unable to determine who was calling him. "By whose orders?"

"Corinthus!"

"Understood." If Corinthus wanted him, there would be a reason. And it wasn't as though he was doing any good out here on the front lines, anyway. His vaunted 'Reaper experience' was no good against actual Reapers. Nothing seemed to be any good against actual Reapers. It wasn't that he hadn't helped in the preparations—more evacuations had been possible because of him, more stockpiles were prepared on outlying colonies for those who had fled Palaven—but that it hadn't been enough. Couldn't possibly have been enough. He was almost glad Shepard was dead so she couldn't see how impossible the task before them was. They were going to die; he knew that now. Like every race before them, they would be wiped out by the Reapers, left to hope that someone would be able to uncover who and what they had been thousands of years from now.

But he was damned if he wasn't going to sell himself, and his people, as dearly as he possibly could, he thought, taking aim at one last husk and enjoying the sight of it blowing to pieces as his shot impacted.

Then he began the jog back to base camp, wondering what Corinthus wanted from him.

They had pulled back to Menae when it became clear the Reapers wanted Palaven and were paying relatively little attention to the moon. The troops were still getting slaughtered, but in a less focused way. Perhaps enough of them would survive to make some kind of stand. Garrus wondered, not for the first time, how the humans were managing on Earth. Communication from the planet was all but gone, just as communication from Palaven would be shortly, he thought, stopping to watch as the red of the fires expanded, sickened by the thought of how widespread and devastating the destruction must be if you could see it from space.

His father and sister should have been gone—he had tried to put them on one of the first transports. Then his sister had broken her leg, badly enough that she was immobilized in a hospital in traction. The best Garrus had been able to do for them was to see to it that they were moved to one of the smaller communities, far from the major cities. His father was chafing at the inaction, he was sure, but they were as safe as he could make them for the moment.

He reached the outer edge of the base camp. A group of soldiers was sitting around a fire, their postures indicating how long they had been fighting and how far past mere exhaustion they were. Nevertheless, they struggled to their feet to salute him. Why, he didn't know. He had done his best to help, but all you had to do was look around to see how ineffectual that help had been. "At ease, men. Save your strength."

They nodded and sank slowly down again, staring morosely into the fire.

"Any news?"

Most of them shook their heads, slowly, as if even that was too much effort. One finally managed to speak up. "Human transport arrived just now."

"Humans? Troops?"

The same soldier responded, slowly, as if his voice was coming from a long way away. "Single shuttle. Two humans and an asari."

"So they've come to ask for help, not to give it."

"If that's so, they've figured out by now they've come to the wrong place. Not gonna be any of us left by tomorrow."

Weariness was something Garrus could understand. Despair wasn't. Worse, despair was contagious. If you left it alone in one group, soon it would be everywhere. "On your feet, soldiers!" he snapped. "Get up and find somewhere useful to be. And that's an order."

They grumbled, but it was the grumble of men who were obeying their superior officer, and there was an awakeness in their voices that hadn't been there a moment ago. Sometimes you had to talk like a commander, he thought, trying to ignore the stab of grief that came with the thought of the term. He would be with Shepard soon enough, no doubt, and they could spend eternity hashing out what they could have done differently.

With that moderately cheery thought, he moved on into the main camp, and was waved on by the sentry toward the pod where General Corinthus waited.

"Sir!" It was a relatively young recruit, jogging up to him. "Is it true?"

"Is what true?"

"They're saying—I mean, you would know, having traveled with her and all … They're saying the human here talking to the general is Commander Shepard."

Despite himself, Garrus's heart leaped in his chest, thudding and pounding as if it had been stopped all this time. "Who's saying that?" he demanded.

The kid shrank back under the intensity of Garrus's gaze. "It's … it's just a rumor, sir. I thought—I thought you would know."

"Well, don't listen to rumors. Go find something useful to do."

As the kid scurried off, Garrus tried to get himself under control. It couldn't be Shepard. Shepard was on Earth; she couldn't have survived. But … if anyone could, maybe the _Normandy_ , maybe Joker and EDI? Hope burned bright in his chest, scalding him with its hopelessness.

He approached the pod with some caution, wanting to know before he showed himself, wanting to be sure it wasn't her before he embarrassed himself when he saw the strange human. Instead, he heard that distinctive, rich drawl, and his knees weakened, threatening to buckle. He put a hand out, catching himself against the side of the pod. She was alive. Shepard was alive. However unbelievably, she was alive and here on Menae, almost within reach.

Unless they were both dead, he thought. But that would be okay, too, as long as he was with her. With that thought, he pushed himself off the side of the pod and took the ramp up inside it.

Shepard was saying, "As long as they can get us the turian resources we need."

If it had been anyone else, Garrus would have told them to get the hell off his moon unless they were bringing help, not asking for it. But this was Shepard, and if Shepard needed something, there was a good reason for it. "I'm on it, Shepard," he said.

Rounding the corner, he saw her, and he was so damn glad to see her that he wanted to fall at her feet and put his arms around her and kiss her and weep all at once. But he was a turian, and this was war, and he held himself like a soldier.

There was wonder, and relief, in those soft brown eyes. "Garrus!"

Corinthus was speaking to him, but he only dimly registered the words as he and Zia stood there and stared at one another as though there were no Reapers and no battle and nothing there but the two of them. She was unharmed, as far as he could tell, and as indomitable as ever. He realized Corinthus was waiting for a response. Glancing in his direction, he said, "At ease, General."

Shepard had come toward him, so close he could almost touch her. "You're alive. I thought—I was worried …"

"Tell me about it," he said gently.

She reached out to shake his hand, and without thinking he put his other one on top, folding her small hand gently in both of his. It was hard to tell exactly where they stood as a couple in the middle of a battle—it had been a long time, after all—but she was still his friend. She would always be that.

"Besides," he added, "I'm hard to kill. You should know that."

"Glad to hear it. It's … good to see you again," she added, almost shyly. "I was afraid you were on Palaven."

He shook his head. "If we lose this moon, we lose Palaven. Since I'm the closest damn thing we have to an expert on Reaper forces, I'm … advising. For all the good it's done."

"Don't let him fool you, Commander. We're in as good shape as we're in because of his help," Corinthus put in. "Without him, I don't know where we'd be."

"I could say the same for myself, General." Shepard turned and gestured to her two companions, unnoticed until now in the shock and wonder of seeing her here when he had never expected to see her again. The first was a big, heavily muscled human male who studied Garrus with some suspicion. "James, this is Garrus Vakarian. He helped me stop the Collectors. He's a hell of a soldier. Garrus, James Vega. He's new to the crew, so go easy on him, will you?"

"No promises. Lieutenant." Garrus was as stiff as any turian leader, wanting to put this kid with the blazing eyes in his place from the get-go. Over Vega's shoulder, he recognized the asari the soldier had mentioned, and he smiled. "Liara. Good to see you, too."

Her smile said she knew what had kept him so distracted and understood. "Glad to see you in one piece, Garrus. We were worried."

"So was I," he told her. "So was I."

But he wasn't anymore. Shepard was alive. And in letting Shepard escape Earth in one piece, the Reapers had made the biggest mistake they could have made. From expecting only to sell his life dearly, Garrus had now come to believe that maybe there was a chance—maybe civilization as they knew it would continue. Anything was possible.


	38. Right Behind You

_Thank you for reading!_

* * *

Shepard was looking for the Primarch. After the death of Fedorian, the new Primarch turned out to be Adrien Victus, a soldier of Garrus's own stamp—a man who thought for himself, a rare leader who might have the creativity to find a way to defeat the Reapers, or at least to hold against them until a way could be found. The turians were going to need him here, on the ground, and Garrus said as much to Shepard.

"Garrus, you've seen what these things can do," Shepard said urgently. "It's not about Palaven, or Earth, or anyone's homeworld—it's about everyone's homeworlds. And we need leaders who can think outside the box up there as much as we need them down here. Possibly more."

"It's just …" He looked around him at the shambles, the completely un-turian-like mess of a camp. "Without him down here, we may lose this moon, and if we lose the moon …" He couldn't finish. He didn't want to put into words how close they were to losing Palaven entirely.

"I know. But without him up there, we could lose everything. The Council won't help, Garrus. They're burying their heads in the sand, again. Only Sparatus was even willing to consider something beyond protecting his own borders, and I have to start somewhere. If even you can't see how much we need to band together as one now—" She looked away, shaking her head. "Then we've already lost." Her comm link crackled before Garrus could say anything, the familiar and welcome voice of Joker coming through. Something about EDI and the _Normandy_ going haywire. Shepard sent Liara back to the ship to help calm Joker down and see if she could figure out what was wrong with his beloved ship, then she turned to look at Garrus. "You may not believe in what we're doing, but will you come with me to find Victus and at least ask him if he'll come to the summit?"

Garrus looked over Shepard's shoulder at a Reaper far on the other side of the moon. The thing was massive, towering over everything. "Look at that," he said softly. "They want my opinion on how to stop it. Failed C-Sec officer, vigilante … and I was all they had for an expert advisor." He looked down at her. "Shepard."

"Garrus?"

"Do you think it's possible to win this thing? Do you think you can do it?"

He looked deeply into her brown eyes, knowing her, knowing the ways she hid the truth when her subordinates didn't need to see how she really felt, and saw nothing but determination and honesty. "I don't know, Garrus, but I am sure as hell going to give it my best shot."

"Well, I'm damn sure nobody else can do it, so your best shot is good enough for me. Let's go get the Primarch."

"Thank you, Garrus."

"Thank me when we find him in one piece."

They set out across Menae, the three of them—Garrus, Shepard, and James Vega. Vega fell behind, his heavy armor and large bulk not conducive to speed, and his lungs not yet used to the thinner air of his respirator.

Rounding a pile of rocks, Garrus saw Palaven shining before him, looking almost close enough to touch. Dotted across the planet's surface were splashes of orange—fires. Destruction. Reapers. He swallowed, wishing he had the time to stop and be sick.

Shepard and Vega came up behind him.

He gestured to the planet. "That blaze of orange? The big one? That's where I was born."

"That's tough," Vega said sympathetically. "You got family down there?"

Garrus nodded. "My dad. A sister."

"They all right?" Shepard asked.

"Last I heard. That's the best I can ask for."

"It's the best any of us can ask for," she told him.

"Your mother?"

"On a ship. Alive—for now."

"Come on. The war won't wait for us to worry."

"Your people look like they're dug in for the long haul," Vega noted as they passed a fortification.

"The turians have the best military in the galaxy," Shepard said.

Garrus sighed. "We do for now … but we're losing men faster than I would have imagined possible. And how long can you keep at it, in the face of odds like these, before the fight's kicked out of you?"

Shepard caught his arm, pulling him to a stop. "Hey. You fight as long as someone is still standing who can load a heat sink into a rifle. That's how long. Start thinking otherwise and the Reapers have already won."

"Yeah." He wished he felt convinced. Looking across the rocks where another Reaper was landing on the far edge of the moon, he sighed. "If only they'd listened to your warnings about the Reapers. If only they'd listen to you now."

"That's why we're here. To make them listen."

"And while we're up in space talking their ears off, our people are on the planets dying," Vega snapped. "I never should have left Earth."

"You didn't have a choice," Shepard reminded him.

"Yeah, I know, but leaving a fight just pisses me off."

Garrus pointed out, "That's what you're asking Victus to do: leave the fight to make nice in some boardroom."

"Battles are won on the ground, but wars are won in the boardroom. You know that," Shepard said urgently. "Victus up there creates an alliance that might have a shot at building an army that can stop these things once and for all, rather than piecemeal battles against their minions. We need the people down here holding them back and the people up there figuring out how to create a decisive victory. This summit is the only chance we've got."

"You know what this fight can use? The meat! Where the hell are the batarians? The krogans?" Vega asked.

"Well, the batarians took the brunt of the initial invasion. Not much left of them now," Garrus said.

"And the krogans aren't exactly fans of the turians."

"Right. 'Cause of that time you made them sterile."

"The salarians did the actual work," Garrus pointed out uncomfortably.

"And the krogans hate them both for it," Shepard added.

Vega grunted. "Too bad. I've fought with a krogan. They're tough sons of bitches."

Garrus and Shepard exchanged glances, thinking of Wrex and Grunt. Garrus wondered if Shepard already had a plan to convince Wrex to get into the war. He hoped so. Vega was right—they were going to need the krogans.

When they finally found Victus, once Shepard had made him see how important the summit was, and how necessary his presence was, he said much the same—he couldn't promise troops for Earth or anywhere else until somehow the pressure was taken off Palaven, and the only way he could see that being possible was to bring in the krogans.

"I'll see what I can do, Primarch," Shepard promised, looking irritated by the condition but not despairing. She must have something up her sleeve, Garrus thought. Punching the comm link in her collar, she called, "Shepard to Cortez."

Who the hell was Cortez? Garrus felt his hackles rising. Vega already looked at Shepard like the sun rose and set in her—which quite possibly it did, Garrus had to concede—now there was this Cortez, too?

"Primarch, you ready?" Shepard asked, and at his nod, she keyed the comm link again. "Prepare for pickup."

"Number of passengers, Commander?" came the voice through the comm.

Shepard looked up at Garrus. "I know your people need you here, but I need you, too."

Need him, or need his weapon? He hoped it was both, actually. But it didn't matter—there had never really been a chance he was letting her off this moon without him, anyway. "Are you kidding?" he asked her. "I'm right behind you."

"Four, Cortez," Shepard responded. "Glad to have you aboard, Garrus."


	39. An Unusual Ship

_Thank you for reading!_

* * *

No sooner had they stepped off the shuttle—piloted by the very fit human Cortez, who Garrus imagined was probably good-looking to other humans, because of course he was—than Shepard was called to deal with some catastrophe aboard. Garrus thought he heard Joker say something about a fire, but whatever it was, it seemed to be more or less under control.

Victus glanced curiously at Garrus. "Everything all right?"

"Seems like it. Joker wouldn't be so calm if there was something seriously wrong with his ship."

"Joker?"

"The pilot. Irreverent as they come, but he's saved all of our lives many times over. He says there's not a better pilot in the galaxy, and while I wouldn't want him to know I said it, he's probably right."

"Good to know." Victus looked around cautiously as they got into the elevator, Cortez and Vega having remained in the docking bay to look after the shuttle and gear. "And Shepard?"

"What about her, sir?"

"We all know the rumors about her, but, seeing her in person …" Victus cleared his throat. "She looks like a stiff breeze would knock her over, Vakarian. And she's—well, she's short. Be honest, what are the odds she can actually accomplish any of what needs to be done?"

Garrus tried not to be angry at the dismissal of Shepard's capabilities, proven many times over, due to something as inconsequential as her stature. After all, he hadn't had any too much confidence in her himself when he first came aboard the original _Normandy_ , he reminded himself, and for similar reasons. Granted, that had been before Saren, before the battle of the Citadel, before the destruction of the Collector base. The galaxy ought to see her worth without question by now. But thanks to the Council's whitewashing and the destruction of the Alpha relay, many saw her as delusional, panic-mongering, and an intergalactic terrorist, to boot.

The arrival of the Reapers and the unquestionable threat they presented should have put paid to that impression, in Garrus's opinion, but trust was hard to build.

"Garrus?" Victus asked again. The elevator doors slid open and they got off, letting a woman in an Alliance uniform lead them to the command center. The Alliance had done some work to the _Normandy_ while it, and Shepard, were in dry dock. Garrus wasn't sure he approved, but then, the work had never had the chance to be finished. It probably would have looked a lot better if the Reapers hadn't invaded. There was a lot of that going around.

When they were alone, Garrus looked at his Primarch seriously. "If this war can be won, it will be won by Shepard, sir."

"You say that with conviction. That wouldn't be your emotions talking, would it?" At Garrus's surprised look, Victus laughed. "I didn't even need the pheremones to know, Vakarian. It was in your voice while you were singing her praises while you tried to prepare us for the Reapers, and in every line of your body when you stood next to her. Is it mutual?"

"It was, sir. Before— Well, a while back. Whether it still is remains to be seen."

To Garrus's disappointment, Victus didn't offer any analysis of the lines of Shepard's body when she stood next to Garrus and what those might have said about what she felt about him. Instead he asked, "And the krogan? What can she do with them?"

Garrus chuckled, thinking of Wrex and Shepard and their arguments over card games, and Wrex on Virmire, letting Shepard talk the gun out of his hand and convince him to destroy Saren's factory. "She's an old friend of Urdnot Wrex," he said, "and could probably talk him into renaming Tuchanka after the _Normandy_ if she worked hard enough at it."

"We're talking about the genophage, Vakarian. To the krogan, nothing else matters."

"I know we are, sir. And they are probably going to ask for something none of us want to give them—but without the krogan, I'm not sure we can win. Or even stand firm, for that matter."

"True enough." Victus sighed heavily. "Primarch Victus. Never thought I'd see the day. Never thought leading my people would mean leaving them."

"You haven't left them. You're fighting for them in a different way, yes, but you're still fighting. And if we bring Wrex onboard, who knows, it could be every kind of fighting known to the galaxy."

Victus chuckled. "That almost sounds like an upside."

"Will you be all right here? I should check on some guns, do some calibrations."

"They don't have people for that?"

"Look around you. This is basically a skeleton crew—must have been whoever was on board when the Reapers attacked and whoever they could pick up on the way. Besides, no one knows those guns better than I do."

Before he could say anything further, Shepard's voice came on the speakers above their heads. "All issues with the _Normandy_ 's systems have been resolved, and she is back to full operating ability. EDI had a bit of an overhaul, and will now be walking among us in a robot's body. Otherwise, all ship's functions should remain the same."

"EDI?" Victus asked when the speaker cut off.

"The ship's AI."

"An AI in a robot's body? And you're all right with this?"

"It's an unusual ship, sir."

"So I gather. Well, standard responses to the Reapers haven't done us much good—maybe we need an unusual ship and a rogue commander to lead us down more creative paths."

"I think, Primarch, that's the general idea."


	40. The Protocol for Reunions

_Thank you for reading!_

* * *

The guns were, as Garrus had predicted, a mess. He was glad of it, too—focusing on making a list of the calibrations needed kept his mind off wondering how long it would be before Shepard would show up in his doorway … and kept him from tracking her down and making a fool of himself. He was almost certain by this point that what had been between them before she went to Earth was over, and he both dreaded hearing it from her and wanted it over with.

At last the doors slid open, Shepard stepping inside. She was in her fatigues, Garrus noticed, his eyes lingering on her trim waist. Her time on Earth had certainly been good for her figure, if nothing else. She didn't say anything at first, and he cleared his throat.

"Took you long enough."

She nodded at the datapad in his hand. "I see you didn't waste any time getting to work."

He put the datapad down on the nearest table. "After what I've been through lately, calibrating a giant fun is a vacation. Gives me something to focus on."

"It might surprise you to know that I didn't bring you on board for your ability to calibrate."

"I've been told I'm a decent shot, as well."

"I'm going to need you for more than your aim."

He couldn't read anything in her eyes. He told himself she probably meant that they needed his leadership, or that she was leaning on him as a friend … but spirits, how he wanted her to mean that she needed him in a far deeper, more personal way.

But he wasn't going to kick about it, so he said lightly, "I'm pretty sure we're still going to need a lot of guns-and people who know how to use them."

"Garrus."

"Zia?"

"Damn it. Why is it always me?"

Before he could work through what she meant by that, she was suddenly there, in his arms, her sweet warm mouth finding his and putting to rest all his concerns that she might not still feel the way he did. In fact, she felt exceptional—so firm and soft at the same time, her arms and legs winding around him as the kiss deepened in hunger and urgency. Garrus turned around, balancing her on the edge of one of the guns and kissed her harder, all thought deserting him, Zia's touch and taste more intoxicating than any wine had ever been.

She seemed to feel the same, her hands moving restlessly over any part of his body she could reach, her legs pulling him more firmly against her, the friction delicious. He wasn't sure when they had crossed the point of no return, but it was clear that kissing was not going to be enough. They frantically displaced clothing just enough so that he could bury himself inside her, both of them going utterly still at the moment they joined, feeling complete again for the first time since she had dropped him on the Citadel all those months ago.

"Garrus." She was clutching at him. "Please."

"Oh, yes." And he began to move, slowly at first, but his control eroded as the tension rose inside him. Shepard's moans were there, urging him on, and he kissed her, wanting her to know everything he was feeling but utterly unable to form words.

When it had passed and the fire between them was banked, at least until tonight when there could be a more thorough, slower exploration of each other, relearning every inch of each other's bodies, he leaned his head against her shoulder as she held him in her arms.

"God, I missed you, Garrus."

"Yeah. Me, too. I—" He pulled back to look at her. "I wasn't sure, on Menae, what the protocol was for reunions, or if you even still …"

"You doubted me?"

"Well, the scars are starting to fade, after all, and I know they drive you wild. I could get new ones, if it would help."

Shepard smacked him on the shoulder. "Don't joke. Don't you know how much you mean to me?"

"I … hoped. But I've been doing some more research on human customs, and I didn't want to … presume."

"More research?"

"Yes."

"And you didn't come across this as the protocol for reunions?"

Garrus chuckled. "To be fair, I'm not sure Menae would have been the right time for this."

"Maybe it would have shocked the Reapers into retreating."

"If you really think so, we could certainly try it." He kissed her cheek, and fluttered his mandible along the side of her neck, loving the way she shivered and pulled him closer. "It's going to take a lot more than Reapers to come between this cross-species liaison," he whispered.

"You really know how to sweet-talk a girl, Vakarian." Shepard pushed at him until he let her down, albeit reluctantly. As she straightened her fatigues, she said, "So tell me about this 'expert advisor' gig. About time the turian hierarchy figured out what a gold mine they had in you."

He shrugged. "More a token title—and a token task force—to shut me up."

"Better than nothing. How did that come about, anyway?"

"Believe it or not, I talked to my father. And for once, he just … listened. To everything. Starting with Saren, all the way through to the events that led up to the destruction of the Alpha relay. He thought some of it sounded pretty crazy—"

"It was. I'm not even sure I'd believe it all."

"True. But he heard me all the way through, and I could see that he was putting together the pieces, just like he did in C-Sec. And eventually he saw it—the Reapers were coming. Then he took it to the Primarch, and the Primarch listened. He wasn't as convinced, but when my father pushed it, he committed some resources." Garrus looked down at her. "I guess we're respectable now."

"Yeah, they don't have any choice but to believe us any longer. But I suspect that'll come with a lot of sleepless nights." To judge from the dark circles under her eyes, it already had. "I can't even count how many lives are depending on us, Garrus."

He put his arms around her, feeling the familiar warmth of her body as she rested her head against his carapace. "Just remember—we're in this together. And if it comes down to both of us dying in a giant explosion taking out a Reaper, just remember who took the kill shot."

"Great. Eternity spent arguing about whose bullet landed first."

Garrus laughed. "Can you think of a better way to spend it?"

"A few … but they all involve you."


	41. Here Together

_Thank you all for reading!_

* * *

They lay together in the bed in Shepard's quarters, Zia splayed across Garrus's chest where she had fallen in the aftermath of her pleasure. The room seemed mostly unchanged to Garrus—some exposed wiring, but beyond that not much had been done. He wondered if she would want to finish the space rather than constantly being reminded of why it had never been completed, and was about to ask her about it when he realized she was shaking in his arms. Listening more closely to her breathing, he realized she was also crying softly, trying to stifle the sound so he wouldn't notice.

"Hey," he said in concern, cupping the back of her head with his hand and stroking the dark fuzz there. "It's all right."

"No, it isn't." Her voice was muffled against his shoulder and she sat up, still straddling his legs, and swiped at the tears on her cheeks. "It's not all right. How can we— What kind of people are we, to be happy here together when so many people have died? Are dying?"

Garrus sat up, too, taking her face in his hands. "Zia, you can't do this to yourself."

"How can you say that? When your own family is still down there on Palaven?"

"I'm worried about them," he admitted. "Of course I am. But that doesn't mean I can stop living. And if I did—what would I be fighting for?"

Zia climbed off him and off the bed, turning toward the wall. "It's all just such a waste of time. All this to and fro across the galaxy, go here, save these people there, yell at these people here, get sent on someone else's errand. And meanwhile here we are, safe and protected on the best ship in the galaxy, up here reconnecting, and … every second, thousands of people are dying."

"You have a better idea?"

"I wanted them to see reason, just once to see how things could be if we all worked together!"

"Of course you did. But you also knew they never would. You've been at this long enough to be aware of what you're up against."

She glared at him over her shoulder. "Oh, stop being so reasonable! You know what our chances are."

Garrus got up, facing her across the bed. "I do. I know that the Protheans held on for a long time, and they weren't as prepared as we were. I know that you have the turians agreeing to help—with conditions, but we were going to have to bring the krogan on board anyway, so there's nothing there we wouldn't have had to deal with eventually."

"At the cost of the salarians."

"They'll come around, as soon as they need us. And they will. Imminent and painful death has a way of motivating people. Instead of questioning your every word, the salarians, and everyone else, are going to be begging you to save them. Shepard, for the first time, we aren't alone in this fight. We can win this."

"But at what price?"

"There will be casualties, and a lot of them. We know that. But turians are taught from birth that if just one survivor is left standing at the end of a war, then the fight was worth it." He looked down at her affectionately. "Humans want to save everyone."

"Can you blame me?"

"No. Everyone in the galaxy, practically, has made this your responsibility, tried to convince you that this is your burden to bear alone." Garrus moved around the end of the bed toward her. "But you're not alone. You have me, and Liara, and Joker, and EDI. And I don't know about this guy Vega, but he seems like a good man to have on your side in a fight."

"He is."

"And he's come around and realized there was a reason you had to leave Earth."

"He has," Shepard admitted reluctantly.

"But you haven't."

"I should have been able to do more!"

Garrus chuckled. "You are only one woman, as much as the galaxy likes to paint you as more than that. Accept what you have been able to do—and that you have the right to a life of your own, for however long you can have it." He reached for her, pulling her against him, ducking his head to kiss her softly. "I'm glad to be part of that. More than glad."

"Part of it? You're all of it." Zia reached up and kissed him back, taking her time. "Thank you, Garrus. I couldn't do any of this without you."

"You never have to. I promise."

"You sure? On Menae, I noticed generals saluting you. Just how far down the line of succession are you these days?"

She was holding her breath, and he hastened to reassure her. "Infinitely far, especially if we can keep Victus alive."

"Primarch Vakarian? It has a nice ring to it."

He kissed her again to end that line of discussion. "Speaking of new names … Lola?"

Zia chuckled. "James likes his nicknames, apparently."

"I'm interested in why he sees you as a Lola. Sounds sexy."

"You don't think I'm sexy?"

He pulled her against him so she could feel exactly how sexy he thought she was. "I'm not sure I like other people thinking that."

"What are you going to do about it?"

Grasping her firm rear, he ground himself against her. "Ruin you for any other man."

"You may have your work cut out for you."

Garrus lowered her to the bed, looking deep into her—admittedly sexy—brown eyes. "I do like a challenge."


	42. Service and Organization

_Thank you for reading!_

* * *

When they docked at the Citadel, Zia had a long list of errands to run, naturally. For once, Garrus had a list as well. On the trip from Menae, his datapad had been blowing up with messages from fellow turians, especially those on the Citadel who were trying to make some sense of the influx of refugees, and to make a place for them that would hold them all as long as was needed. Every day that time seemed to stretch out longer and longer as the Reapers' reach extended across the galaxy and the number of places left to run to shrank.

Stepping off the _Normandy_ , Garrus and Zia exchanged a look and a smile, and then he headed for the area that had been set aside as a temporary resettlement for refugees. So far, it was mostly batarians, humans, and turians, which was a recipe for total disaster if there wasn't someone to keep them calm—and there was no one. C-Sec and the entire management of the Citadel appeared overwhelmed by the sheer number of people pouring in.

"Vakarian. Sir." A young turian he vaguely recognized from the Primarch's office on Palaven rushed up to him, his mandibles fluttering in relief. "This is …"

"Yeah, I see it." Garrus looked around him at the chaos and sighed. The space itself wasn't bad, but there were wounded soldiers there, and families, and children whose parents hadn't made it onto their shuttle, and the elderly and infirm, all with no one to care for them. He glanced at the young turian, trying to remember his name. "Silvius, isn't it?"

"Yes, sir."

"You're in charge here?"

"There was no one else. They knew I'd worked for the Primarch, so … But all I did was run errands! I don't know anything about organizing, or medicines, or anything like that—and certainly nothing on this scale!"

"Well, you're about to learn. Where's your roster?"

Silvius produced a datapad on which names had been jotted apparently at random. Garrus frowned.

"I think we can do better than this." He looked around him, seeing an older female he remembered having been an acquaintance of his mother's. "Beata Portius?"

She looked up at him, startled. "Why, yes. And you're young Vakarian." A shadow crossed over her face. "I was sorry to hear about your mother. Maybe now I'm not so sorry."

"Your family?"

"No news is good news, isn't that what they say? It means there's still hope."

"My father and sister are missing as well. We'll hope together," he told her gently. "You were a secretary at one of the schools, if I remember correctly?"

"Yes." She glanced around at some of the children huddling against their families. "I thought of trying to start some classes, but … I think it's too soon."

"Probably," Garrus agreed. "But we could use a detailed list of everyone who's here and what their status is. Do you think you could—?" He gestured with the datapad.

Beata's face brightened, and she got to her feet. "It would be my honor." She was starting with the family next to her almost before she had taken the datapad from his hands.

"Service," Garrus said to Silvius. "Service and organization. That's what turians need. Get them properly sorted, give as many of them as possible tasks to do, you'll find things run much easier. Now, let's look at some of these wounded."

"Thank you, sir. I'm so glad you've come to help!"

"I'm not staying. I'm needed elsewhere."

"But—"

"You can do this, Silvius."

"Sir!" Another young turian, this one unknown to Garrus, rushed up to Silvius. "There's another transport coming. I—where can we—do we have the room?"

Silvius hesitated. Garrus knew he should let the young man handle things on his own, but someone needed to give him the start. "They're our people," he said. "We have the room. Or we'll have to find it somewhere. This is going to be home for a while—you can't start turning people away now." Soon enough, the Citadel would be turning refugees away, he guessed, and these young men's job would be done for them. That part of it, at least.

He and Silvius looked at the wounded, most of them disabled beyond an ability to fight, and too many of them not likely to last long. "Keep them comfortable, but don't waste resources you'll need for those you can save," he said softly to Silvius. The orderlies working on one of the more critically wounded men looked up and nodded at that, their faces somber, before returning to their task. "Now, about that."

"About—?" Silvius was looking a little green, standing there in the container set aside for the more severely wounded.

"About resources. Some of the colonies have been sending in what they could spare, I understand. But I'm not seeing a lot here."

Silvius cleared his throat. "I believe much of that has been allocated to the Presidium."

Anger flashed through Garrus, and he held on to his temper with an effort. "So this is what you do: You contact Commander Bailey over at C-Sec, and you tell him that Garrus Vakarian would consider it a personal favor if he could 'reallocate' those shipments so these people don't starve."

"Will that work?"

"Once. Maybe twice if it's really important." Bailey was a good man, and not too impressed with the establishment. He would help, at least this time. "But you have to start making friends with the dock workers and making sure they know where the crates go for our people. They'll get it done, regardless of orders."

"Won't they get in trouble?"

"Silvius, when you need something taken care of in an office, who do you go to, the boss, or the assistant?"

The light dawned. "The assistant."

"Exactly." Garrus looked around, satisfied with the day's work. Beata Portius was still taking names, and people were seeming much calmer overall now that they knew they were in the system. The orderlies and a couple of doctors had all the wounded in one place, separate containers for the more and less injured. Silvius had helped make a place for the new shipment of refugees—none of whom had been Garrus's father or sister, which had saddened him but not surprised him. He pushed the worry aside in favor of the work at hand, turning to Silvius. "Now, let's see what we can do about getting some of these older folks some more comfortable sleeping arrangements."

"Right over here, sir. I have a few ideas."

Garrus was glad to see that the young man was beginning to settle in to his role, since it was impossible to predict when Garrus might be able to get back to the Citadel.

The other young man from earlier rushed up again—that seemed to be his job, rushing around breathlessly. "They're saying they won't accept any more of the wounded."

"Where are they suggesting they go?" Silvius demanded.

The messenger shrugged.

This one Garrus was glad he was here for. "Come on."

He led Silvius to the elevators. "Where are we going, sir?"

"We're going to see Sparatus and get this sorted out. No one who has been on the front lines of this war should be turned away from sanctuary."

"I completely agree, sir. We'll make him see reason."

Garrus was relieved and somewhat impressed at how far Silvius had come in such a short time. "That we will."


	43. Do What You Can

_Thank you for reading!_

* * *

Garrus and Silvius were just going over the notes Silvius had made about future organization and how to make more space as refugees continued to flood in when he heard the ripple of whispers that, down here, could only precede one person.

Zia Shepard came around the corner of the containers the turians had been given. "Garrus, we're just about finished prepping the _Normandy_. Are you ready?"

"Almost."

She looked around her. "This is … I'm sorry."

The human areas looked as bad, and were just as full, but Garrus didn't bother to point that out to her, knowing her sympathy for his people was genuine. "Yeah. And going to get worse. We convinced the Council to continue accepting our wounded—"

"I made sure refugee ships weren't going to be turned away at all."

"Did you? What happens when the Citadel overflows and doesn't have the resources to feed them all?"

"Where else are they going to go?" Zia demanded in return.

"I suppose." Garrus wasn't convinced, but since he had gone to so much effort to get Sparatus to take the turian wounded, he could hardly argue with Zia wanting to keep the Citadel open for other refugees as well.

"How bad are the casualties?"

He shook his head. "Unbelievable. Eighty-five percent killed in action."

Zia drew in a shocked breath. "The turian military is the best in the galaxy."

"Was. We'll be needing a morgue—many are too badly hurt to make it here."

"Garrus." She put out a hand to comfort him, then thought better of it. This was hardly the time for either of them to look in need of comfort, not with Silvius and half the turian refugees watching them avidly. Instead she said, "Do what you can for them."

"We are. Little as it is."

"Any sign of your family?"

"No." He couldn't talk about that now, not and keep focused. "I'll keep hoping." He turned to Silvius. "You sure you have everything under control here?"

"We'll manage, sir. These are our people—we'll take care of them, and each other. And someday we'll all go home."

"Yes, we will." They saluted each other, Silvius and Shepard nodding to one another, and then Garrus followed Shepard out of the warren of containers and frightened refugees. "Well, I think I made that situation a little better."

"A lot better, if you ask me."

"Thanks." He squeezed her shoulder affectionately. "How are you holding up? I'm starting to sense some wear and tear."

"Story of my life." Shepard smiled, but without humor. "I asked Miranda if she had any spare parts stored up."

"What did she say?"

"She didn't seem to think it was funny."

"Well, she never did have much of a sense of humor. You saw her here?"

"I can't say. She's in hiding. Oh, and Bailey says he'll be happy to grant your favor, but don't overuse the privilege."

"His words, or yours?"

She chuckled. "Guess."

"Did you see Udina?"

Shepard took a long breath. "Unfortunately. That man—he's as frustrating as the rest of the Council, except that he promises to help and then throws up roadblocks. And he thinks I work for him. Meanwhile, Aria T'Loak has me running all over the Citadel solving her problems with the Blue Suns and Eclipse and the Blood Pack. She says they'll help against the Reapers if I can consolidate her control, but you know that's never easy, either—every person I talk to seems to add steps to the process."

"Hey." They were stopped in front of the elevator, and Garrus turned her to face him, his hands on her shoulders. "It's okay to come up for air once in a while."

"Is it?"

"Yes. You can't wear yourself out."

"I know. People need me." She looked wearied by the thought, and Garrus tipped her chin up with his finger, looking deep into her eyes.

"Not just people. _I_ need you. That's why you have to come up for air."

"That is quite the reason to breathe," she agreed, smiling.

The elevator chimed softly as it got to their floor and they got onto it, holding hands.

"Speaking of reasons to breathe—or not, as the case may be," Shepard began.

"That's cryptic."

She chuckled. "EDI was asking me how to take Joker on a date."

"You're joking."

"Not at all."

"An AI and a human? How does that even … work?"

She raised an eyebrow at him. "You want me to find you some instructional vids?"

"No, thank you. I'll just … pretend I didn't ask." He glanced down at her as the elevator came to a stop. "What did you tell her?"

"I told her to find something they both enjoyed."

"You mean, other than playing with her new body?"

Shepard rolled her eyes and smacked him on the arm. "You said you weren't going to ask about that part."

"Sorry, the visuals are hard to ignore."

"I suggested a comedy club. Then I ran into Joker, who was following her around to make sure she didn't get into trouble—"

"Toss-up which of them is more likely to run into some."

Shepard laughed. "He was too busy making sappy faces at her to get into any trouble. He seemed nervous, wasn't sure what to do." She squeezed his hand more tightly. "I told him, no one ever fell in love without being a little bit brave."

Heedless of the open elevator door, Garrus bent to kiss her. Whatever was to come, he knew he was a lot braver with this woman at his side than he would have been without.


	44. Expect the Unexpected

_Thank you for reading!_

* * *

"So … a Prothean."

Garrus had been standing in the cockpit for a good ten minutes already; he'd never known Joker to take so long to come up with something to say about events aboard his ship, much less such a banal comment. Their newest crewmember must have really thrown the pilot for a loop, he thought with some amusement.

"Yeah. As long as he doesn't fancy a dinner of boiled asari with a side of fried turian and poached human for dessert, I'm sure we'll be fine. I don't know about the rest of you, but I'm not taking that one for the team."

"Me, neither." Joker shook his head. "Just when you think you've seen it all."

"Come on, Joker, you're on the _Normandy_ ," Garrus reminded him. "Always expect the unexpected. Talking Reaper, talking plant … talking Prothean."

"Garrus, If the unexpected is expected, does that not make it the expected?" EDI asked.

"Exactly."

Joker swiveled his chair around, frowning at both of them. "Don't be confusing."

"I was merely pointing out that there's a paradox implied in the concept of—"

"Yeah, yeah, I get it. So, this Prothean. He really reads minds?"

Garrus shook his head. "Not the way you're thinking, but … kind of. He reads people's thoughts through touch. He knew all about Grunt just through touching the floor of the cargo bay."

"Creepy."

"Actually, Jeff, it's a process called—"

"Creepy," Joker interrupted. "Sometimes I don't need the explanation."

"Of course. I will work on learning those times."

"Thank you."

The doors slid open and Shepard came through, tapping on a datapad. "Well, that was easier than I expected."

"Wrex agreed?"

"Well, he agreed to come on board and make nice with the turians," she said cautiously.

"You know what that means," Garrus said, concerned.

She sighed. "I know. He'll want them to reverse the genophage."

"You know they can't."

"I know that, and you know that, and somehow I have to get it through Wrex's thick skull."

Joker snorted. "I don't envy you that job."

"If anyone can do it, you can," Garrus told her.

"Do you know how tired I am of hearing that?"

She looked weary, dark circles underneath her brown eyes.

"You told Javik you could use some of the Prothean commitment, that drive that kept them from giving up. You think that'll work? Having him aboard?"

"He called us all primitives," she reminded him, but he was glad to see some amusement back in her eyes. "If nothing else, I'd like to make him have to take that back."

Joker swiveled his chair around so he could look up at her. "Of all the things to dig up. Has Liara stopped asking questions long enough to take a breath?"

"I think she's still trying to wrap her head around finding a real live Prothean and finding him as bloodthirsty as a krogan. She was expecting—a scientist. Or a philosopher. She's having to change a lot of her ideas."

Garrus looked over Joker's head at the expanse of stars. "I suspect this war is going to have that effect on a lot of us."

"In some ways, that part isn't the worst thing." When they all turned to look at her in surprise, Shepard shrugged. "Look at how this is going—Earth is hit, no one comes to help, so Palaven is hit. I try to get help for both planets, but the only way it's offered is if I'll scratch other people's backs in the process. Now, here I am bouncing around the galaxy fulfilling promises, and while I'm doing that, the Reapers are moving, spreading out. Soon it will be Sur'Kesh and Thessia and all the other homeworlds. When if we simply all helped when help was needed, maybe we could have contained them in the Sol galaxy."

"At the cost of your planet," Garrus pointed out.

"But the saving of everyone else's. And, oh, yes, if they had listened to me to begin with, maybe we would have been prepared and no one's world would have had to suffer. So, I say again, if this war causes people to change their ideas about each other, that won't be the worst thing." She looked sorrowfully out at the stars. "I only wish so many innocent people hadn't had to die because of their leaders' stubbornness and suspicion."

Everyone else was silent, acknowledging the truth of her words.

Then she gave a short laugh. "Of course, the Protheans were unified, and look where that got them."

"Liara was right?" Garrus asked. "They had a harmonious, unified culture?"

Shepard laughed a little longer this time, shaking her head. "Hardly. According to Javik, any new race they came across—unless they were considered too 'primitive' to be bothered with, like the humans and the turians—was assimilated. Whether they liked it or not. The Protheans were not benevolent."

"Poor Liara. A career's worth of research out the airlock."

"It's good for her," Joker said. "She needed something new to think about. Something worth bouncing about. Liara needs more bouncing."

Shepard gave him a suspicious glance, looking for the double entendre, but he appeared sincere. "You don't think being the Shadow Broker is enough?"

"I don't think it's Liara enough."

Shepard nodded. "Good point."

Something beeped on the console and Joker turned his chair around, his fingers flying dexterously across the keyboard. Garrus wondered if Joker ever wished the rest of his body could move like that, with the same surety and confidence.

Standing here in the cockpit, with the stars going by, surrounded by friends, it was easy to forget that there were people dying out there right now. Later, Garrus would feel badly for allowing himself the moment to breathe. For now, he put a hand on Shepard's shoulder, feeling her body relax against his, and they stood and watched the stars.


	45. Wrex

_Thank you for reading!_

* * *

Bringing Wrex aboard had been as explosive as expected, and in the manner everyone had been prepared for. The krogan's price for helping the turians against the Reapers was a cure for the genophage. Garrus had assumed the promise of a cure would be all they could offer, that it would take years, if not longer, for a cure to be synthesized, but apparently Wrex had more up-to-date information. He faced off against the salarian Dalatrass with a vid of krogan females being held on Sur'Kesh—females that Wrex claimed had been cured of the genophage, a claim the Dalatrass did not deny.

Shepard relayed all this to Garrus as she was getting ready for bed in her quarters later that night. "Once the Dalatrass had all but admitted the females were there … well, we're all lucky Wrex didn't kill her."

"He's come a long way."

"That he has. But he demanded an immediate trip to Sur'Kesh, and Victus and I couldn't blame him. Or deny him."

"What did the Dalatrass say to all this?"

"No, no, and some more no. Then Victus told her if she didn't agree to let us retrieve the females, he'd be the last friendly turian she'd ever see. I think she believed him."

Garrus chuckled. "He can be scary when he wants to be."

"So now the salarians are angry."

"Well, the Dalatrass is. Wait until the Reapers come knocking at her door—I'll bet she changes her tune."

"I hope it's not too late by then." Shepard sighed, dropping wearily onto the couch. "We need the krogan if any of us are going to survive long enough to make a real stand against the Reapers—and Wrex knew it, and played that knowledge to his best advantage. I don't blame him, but at the same time … if everyone feels the need to delay like this for their own gain, none of us will make it."

Garrus sat down next to her, putting an arm around her shoulders. "In his case, I suppose it's not much of a difference. As long as the genophage remains in place, the rest of the galaxy is as much the enemy of the krogan's future as the Reapers are."

"Which is why I agreed so readily to go to Sur'Kesh. Hell, between you and me, this is a much easier task than I imagined I'd have to accomplish on Wrex's behalf. A trip to Sur'Kesh, pick up the females, get a cure synthesized from their blood—how hard can it be?" Garrus snorted, and she grinned at him. "You sound like you think it won't be that easy."

"When has it ever been?"

"Exactly what I mean. We're due for something to go better than expected."

Garrus kissed the top of her head. "I can think of something that usually goes well."

Zia tilted her head up to look at him, smiling. "You want to waste all our luck in bed?"

"Can you think of a better place?"

Her answer was cut short by his kiss.

Wrex looked them both over as they climbed onto the shuttle the next day, ready to head down to Sur'Kesh. "I remember when you two were the first ones armored up and ready to go."

"Haven't you heard? There's a war on," Garrus told him. "Things to do."

"Yeah? A heavy-duty calibrating session, huh?" Wrex laughed. "Lucky bastard."

Garrus couldn't argue with that assessment, so he gave Wrex a very self-satisfied smirk instead. "Jealous?"

"Hell, yeah. Shepard's got quite the quad on her."

Shepard rolled her eyes. "Can we keep my quad out of the conversation, please?"

"Don't tell me, tell the boy-toy."

"Boy-toy?" Garrus echoed. "Excuse me?"

From his seat in the corner of the shuttle, Javik groaned. "Must you all constantly spout nonsense?"

"It takes the edge off," Shepard told him.

He grunted again and closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the wall.

"We have a plan, Shepard?" Wrex asked her.

"Well, we're taking a krogan to the salarian homeworld, so I'm going to go with not causing an international incident. Think you can handle that, Wrex?"

"They're the international incident."

"So, no, then." Shepard sighed. "Great. Look, let's keep it simple. We land, get the females, and leave before anyone changes their mind. And you keep your mouth shut," she said severely to Wrex.

"Long as no one gives me a reason to open it. Not that I trust a word they say."

"Let diplomacy work for you, Wrex. You'll get what you want."

He looked down at her, his eyes uncharacteristically soft. "You know those females are the best, probably last, hope for my people."

Shepard reached out and patted his arm. "I know."

"We'll bring them home, Wrex," Garrus promised him. "You've waited long enough for this day."

Wrex nodded. "A lifetime." He reached out a hand to shake Garrus's. "I appreciate the assist, Garrus."

"Well, I figured you'd gone soft sitting on your throne, forgot how to hold a gun."

Javik snorted. "He would hardly remain king long if that were the case," he said without opening his eyes.

Wrex frowned at him. "Who, or what, is this guy?"

"He's a Prothean," Shepard said casually, as though Protheans rode Alliance shuttles every day of the week.

Looking from Shepard to Javik and then back to Shepard, Wrex grunted. "Sometimes I'm not sure if the _Normandy_ 's a warship or a traveling freak show."

"The latter," Javik put in.

"Still," Wrex went on, ignoring the input, "as long as he can hold a gun …"

At that, Javik opened his eyes, sitting forward. "My people were fighting the Reapers while yours were still wallowing in the primordial mud of Tuchanka."

"Yeah, and how'd that work out for you?"

"From what I have heard, I could ask you the same question."

The two of them stared at each other for a moment, then Wrex laughed. "Liara must be having a field day with you."

"He's not exactly the way she imagined his people," Shepard agreed.

"The asari has an entirely false notion of what it is to be a Prothean." Javik sniffed with disdain. "Still … she is proficient with her weapons."

Wrex laughed. "You can say that again."

From the controls, Cortez announced that they were approaching the salarian base, and they all immediately focused on making sure their guns were prepped and ready for landing. Shepard might hope they could get through this peacefully, but Garrus had studied his galactic history, and he was far from convinced the salarians were intending to let any of them—particularly Wrex—leave alive, much less land in the first place.


	46. What the Krogan Do Best

_Thank you for reading!_

* * *

Wrex put his tray down across from Garrus in the mess hall. "Someone sitting here?"

"You are, now."

"Damn right." They ate in silence for a few minutes. Wrex's table manners hadn't improved, Garrus noticed, although living on Tuchanka, he supposed there was no real reason for him to have any. His appetite partially sated, Wrex slowed down at last. "The _Normandy_ looks good. At least we're not stuck in the cargo bay all the time now."

"It is an improvement," Garrus agreed.

"Still … Liara has a window. Some reason we don't rate a window?" Wrex laughed. "'Course, now you get to look at Shepard's … windows," he added, just when Garrus thought he might have to take offense.

"It's a nice view."

"I bet." No question that Wrex's laugh was off-color this time, but Shepard really was a nice view, so Garrus let it go. Wrex looked at him more seriously across the table. "You think she's going to get it done?"

"I can't think of anyone else who could."

Wrex nodded. "I've been ready for this, making plans, ever since Sovereign. Why else did I give all this up—and my shot at Shepard—to go back to Tuchanka and take over? Like wrestling a pile of varren, but we're getting there."

His shot at Shepard? Garrus really didn't want to picture that, and was having a hard time avoiding it. "We need you," he said instead, meaning it.

"Of course you do! Saving the galaxy from giant monsters is what the krogan do best, after all."

Opening up the Rachni Wars and Krogan Rebellion debates wasn't going to get them anywhere—they had argued through all of those back on the original _Normandy_ , and gotten nothing out of it but a pair of sore heads.

"How is the female?" he asked. "Recovering from her ordeal?"

"Cranky. I have never understood women." There was a plea in Wrex's gaze that asked for solidarity in this matter, but Garrus found Shepard relatively easy to read, when he didn't think about it too hard, so he let it go. With no response, Wrex went on, "That salarian, Wiks, he thinks he can do the cure. But he needs to cut me."

"Cut you?"

"Yeah. Where no scalpel should ever go."

Garrus winced in solidarity. "Sorry, buddy. That's rough."

"Worth it if it cures the genophage, at last." Wrex paused, then leaned forward across the table. "I was there once. For a birth. The baby—it never took a breath. Holding something that small, that fragile, knowing it never had a chance … I wanted to tear anyone I could find from limb to limb."

"I'm sorry, Wrex."

"Yeah, I know you are. Which is why your funny little bones are still intact."

"Shepard said she was impressed by—what was that name Wiks gave her?"

"Eve. Easy to say, at least."

"Right. Shepard liked her," Garrus said.

"She liked Shepard. Told me she didn't know why someone as smart as Shepard had ever let me on board her ship. 'Course, Eve's never seen me fight."

"I've seen you fight. I think the galaxy's better off with you on Tuchanka."

"Heh. Wish I could save your ass by knocking some heads around for you, but duty calls. Have to stay here and be a test subject. Besides, you only say that because now you can get a kill shot in now and then. It grind you that Shepard's a better shot than you?"

"She is not!" Garrus said, affronted.

Wrex laughed delightedly. "It does grind you! At least it's Shepard. No one quite like her. I think I'll make her an honorary krogan."

Garrus imagined most people seeing how small and delicate Zia looked would think she was the opposite of a krogan—but most people had never seen her in combat. "You should. She'd like that. Urdnot Shepard—has a nice ring to it."

"Thinking of giving that one to my firstborn," Wrex agreed.

"So … if Shepard's an honorary krogan, what does that make me?"

"Her female."

He supposed he had asked for that. "From what I've seen, the females are the real brains on Tuchanka."

"They think they are, anyway. Well, I've got important tests to … be," Wrex grumbled, getting up. "Nice talking with you, Garrus."

"As always," Garrus ageed.

Later, in bed with Shepard, he asked her about Eve.

"She seems fine. Wiks is worried about her health, but he thinks he can stabilize her using Maelon's research. I'm glad we kept it."

"I admire her."

"I do, too. The things she's endured …" Shepard shook her head. "And now she's her species last best hope. That's a lot of pressure."

"It takes real courage to stand up under pressure like that," Garrus agreed. "What do you think Mordin would make of what we're doing now?"

"I don't know. Maybe he'd be for it. He liked science, and Wiks is doing good science. I think … it's important that we do this for the krogan. No species should have to watch their children die. Eve told me about her first baby, and—" Shepard shivered. "I can't even imagine."

"I know. Wrex told me some things, too." A thought struck him suddenly. "Shepard."

"What?"

But he didn't think he wanted to go down that road. Not now. "Wrex wants to make you an honorary krogan."

She laughed, snuggling in closer to Garrus's side. "He's threatened that before."

"This time, I think he means it."

Shepard yawned. "Well, we've already been through the Rite of Initiation, so how bad could it be? Good-night, Garrus."

"Good-night, Shepard."

She was asleep within minutes, but Garrus lay awake, looking up at the stars and listening to her breathing and the hum of the ship. He couldn't have asked for anything more out of his private life right now, other than the safety of his father and sister, and there was little point in looking too far ahead with the Reapers still a very real and imminent threat to the galaxy … but someday he and Shepard would have to think about a future, where and how they would live, and possibly … a family. For the first time, it occurred to him that he and Shepard could never have children together. The thought made him sad. But at the same time, he couldn't help thinking about what Wrex had said about the little krogan baby who hadn't lived, and he was glad he never had to watch Shepard go through something like that, glad there wasn't even a risk of it.

For now, this was as far ahead as he needed to look, and he was content with it.


	47. Resolving Conflict

_Thank you for reading!_

* * *

He'd been seething all day—after stewing on it all the night before. Shepard's decision to unshackle the last rachni queen, to set her free again after the Reapers had done spirits-knew-what to her, was foolhardy in the extreme. Garrus hadn't been happy the first time she set the queen free, back on Noveria, but it had seemed relatively harmless at the time. The queen had promised to disappear forever. Now they had ample evidence that she couldn't disappear completely, even if she wanted to. If rachni continued to exist in the galaxy, someone was going to exploit them. That appeared clear to Garrus, and he couldn't imagine why it wasn't clear to Shepard.

There hadn't been a chance to talk about it once they returned to the _Normandy_. In addition to minor wounds suffered by Shepard and Vega, their old companion Grunt had fought through a massive number of Reaper forces and, while he had lived to tell the tale, there had been some tense moments once he was brought back on board. Padok Wiks had helped Dr. Chakwas bring him around, a fact that had gone a long way toward reconciling Wrex to his species' fate resting in the hands of the salarian.

Grunt's natural toughness had brought him through, though, and he was already protesting that he needed to get back to his men. You couldn't keep a krogan down. At least, not without a lot of sledgehammers.

With Grunt out of the woods, Garrus had been able to focus on his anger at Shepard, and he was barely able to walk into her quarters without letting it all spill out.

"You all right?" she asked, glancing at him over her shoulder. She was typing away at an email, and her fingers didn't stop moving even as she spoke. Garrus guessed that his state of mind only mattered when she didn't have more important things to do.

"Fine," he snapped.

Now the dancing fingers did stop, and she gave him a startled look before returning to her email. "Grunt's going to be fine."

"Of course Grunt's going to be fine. There'll be a lot more dead Reapers now with Grunt in the war; you couldn't take him out with a tank. Not that you didn't try," he muttered under his breath, turning to look at the fish. The sight failed to calm him in the least.

Behind him, the typing stopped. "What did you say?"

"I said I hope it pays off."

"You hope what pays off?"

"Your affection for the giant spiders. I notice you sided with them again, Shepard. In the face of a whole galaxy's better advice, and thousands of years of history, you keep setting those things free."

"What was I supposed to do, kill her?"

He turned around, glaring down at her. "Not killing her nearly killed Grunt!"

"Grunt is a soldier. He knew what he was doing."

"He didn't know what you were going to do. Who could have? You know, Shepard, most people have never seen a rachni. But the _Normandy_? We're a regular safari tour."

Zia was on her feet now, too, standing up to her full height. She looked surprisingly tall for such a short person, her brown eyes blazing. "Safari tour?"

"You heard me."

"So I suppose the asari who also happens to have most of the knowledge of the galaxy at her fingertips, she's here just for prestige. Or the turian primarch, here trying to save his planet. Or the krogan leader, here trying to save his whole species. Or the salarian doctor, trying to undo a centuries-old wrong. All those people are just me trying to show the galaxy how many species I can collect, are they, Garrus?" She came closer, looking up at him. "What about the smug, self-centered turian who can't see beyond his limited grasp of galactic history?"

"Limited? I got top marks in galactic history, when your species barely knew there was a galaxy to learn about." He caught her by the arms. "You're the one putting the entire galaxy in danger letting loose something that should have died decades ago."

"I saved her life, and that of her species, twice over, and gained a powerful and important ally in the process. What did you do today?" Her hand was on his chest now, pushing him back against the glass wall of the fish tank.

"I—" She was so close he could almost feel her breath on his face, and despite his anger, maybe because of it, Garrus wanted her as badly as he ever had. He kissed her, hard, astonished to find her kissing him back with as much fervor, and as much force. "You're foolhardy, Shepard. You're going to pardon the wrong person and we'll all pay for it," he muttered, ripping at her clothes until her breasts were bared for him.

"You have to let go of the past. Old hatreds just get in the way of what needs to be done." She tugged him toward the bed, both of them stumbling in their haste, hands working at each other's clothes.

Unwilling to admit that she had a point, Garrus pushed her down on the bed. She was back up on her knees before he joined her, though, her mouth moving across his chest and down over his ribs. He used a claw to shred the flimsy fabric of her underwear, reaching to touch her just as her hands found him.

Her breathing was harsh and heavy, her body moving against his hand in time with the strokes of hers. "Say it, Garrus."

"Say what? That you made a hasty decision out of emotion?"

"That I preserved an alliance and brought a powerful new foe to the war against the Reapers. That you—all of you—are too tied to the past to see beyond what was."

He groaned at a particularly effective flick of her thumb. "Zia."

"Say it, Garrus!"

"I … don't know." It was hard to think, and maybe she knew it, because the motion of her hands stopped as she trapped him against the soft skin of her belly. "The rachni could never be trusted."

"No one ever took the time to understand them. You always just attacked, and they attacked back, and then you threw the krogan at them without understanding them, either. Garrus," she whispered. "So much hate and so little forgiveness and understanding."

Garrus groaned. Maybe she was right. Turians had never been big on forgiving and forgetting, or on resolving conflict without war. And look where that had gotten them. "You're not wrong." He kissed her again, slower this time, no longer angry. "But you don't know what will happen."

"I know what happens if we can't beat the Reapers." She was pressed against him now, pulling him down so that he lay on top of her, trapped now against her wet heat. "Say it, Garrus, please." She moaned as the friction between them intensified.

"You …" He reared back just a little, just enough, slipping inside her, stopping just as the connection was made. "You saved an ally."

"Oh, yes." Zia lifted her hips, and he couldn't help himself any longer, seating himself deeply inside her. "Tell me … ah … tell me you trust me, Garrus."

"I trust you," he whispered against her ear, feeling the shiver she gave at the vibration of his subharmonics. "I trust you, I need you, I love you."

At the words, she wrapped her arms and legs, her entire self, around him, and the glorious fire swept through them both.

After a long while, they lay together, Garrus's head resting on her shoulder as Zia held him against her. "I'll tell you one thing," he said softly.

"What's that?"

"If I never see another spider again, I'll die a contented turian."

She chuckled. "I suspect they have spiders in the afterlife."

"Damn."

"But I'll be there."

"And you like spiders."

"Maybe by then you will, too."

"I wouldn't count on it."

"Never say never."

Garrus supposed that was good advice, especially with her around.


	48. Dreaming

_Thank you for reading!_

* * *

In the middle of the night, Zia woke crying out. Garrus, dragged from the middle of a dream about Grunt wearing an apron and cleaning the floor, tenderly moving the cobwebs he found to the corner of the ceiling for EDI to crawl around on, couldn't make out Shepard's words at first, but she was shaking violently, and he wrapped his arms around her. As she leaned her head against his upper arm, he could feel that her face was wet with tears.

He rested his head against the soft fuzz of her dark hair. "It's all right. I'm here."

"I …" She shuddered, clinging to him harder. "Garrus. Garrus?"

"I'm here, Shepard," he said again. "I'm not going anywhere." He rocked her gently back and forth, concerned about the way she was continuing to shake. Whatever dream this was, it had a real hold on her. "Do you want to tell me about it?"

"I'm not sure I can. It's—" She was weeping openly now, and he pulled her more closely into his arms.

"You want me to tell you what I was dreaming about?"

"What?"

"Grunt in an apron."

Zia gave a watery chuckle. "Can I be there when you tell him about that?"

"Sure. Not that I would. Can you imagine?"

"No."

"And EDI was a spider."

"Like Charlotte. I can see that." Her voice was getting stronger, the dream easing its hold on her.

"Charlotte?"

"She's a spider, in a book. She saves a pig."

Garrus let that one go. She must still be a little out of it … or he really didn't understand what a pig was.

"Can I tell you something?"

"Anything."

"I am so afraid. I know … I know I'm Commander Shepard, and I'm not supposed to be, but—"

"Hey." He nuzzled his mandible against the side of her face. "You're not supposed to be anything but who you are, and if that means admitting you have perfectly natural fears, then that's what it means. We're all afraid."

"If I show it, though, everyone will lose faith."

She was right. He couldn't even pretend to tell her she wasn't. "That's what you have me for. You can tell me anything, and I won't lose faith in you."

"Never?"

"Not ever. I promise."

Shepard sighed, rubbing her cheek against his arm. "You say that, but you don't know how scared I really am, how worried I am that I've promised all these things to all these people and I can never deliver."

"I have a pretty good idea. I also know that you've never failed at anything you set out to do."

"That isn't true. I— Garrus, I … I'm responsible for the death of a child."

That sounded like a specific incident, and as much as he racked his brains, he couldn't imagine when it must have happened. "Do you want to tell me about it?"

"It was on Earth, when the Reapers attacked. I found him in a building, hiding in an air duct, and I tried—I tried to get him to come with me, Garrus, you have to believe me." She gave a little moan of pain, her eyes closing as more tears rolled down her cheeks.

"Of course you did."

"But he wouldn't come out, and Anderson and I were trying to get to the _Normandy_ , and I left him there. I … I didn't have a choice."

He murmured an agreement. "You don't know what happened to him, though."

"No, I do. I saw him later. He got on a transport, and as it took off—" She shivered again, turning in his arms so she could press her face against his chest.

"Oh." He could imagine it, the Reapers attacking, the transport caught at the wrong moment, blowing up, Shepard watching, shocked and anguished. "You couldn't have known that would happen." He left unsaid the bitter fact of how many other children must have died that day. "When I left Palaven, there were throngs of people around the compound trying to get on the military transports. We were going to Menae, to the front lines. We couldn't take any civilians, not even our own families, but the screams as the doors closed—I'll never forget them."

"Garrus, what kind of people will we be when—if this ever ends? After everything we've seen? After everything we've done? How can we ever live again in any normal way?"

He thought about that one, not wanting to offer her anything glib or easy. "Maybe we don't," he said at last. "Maybe we do all of this so those who survived on our planets can live again, normal lives, and we … we just do the best we can." If they lived at all, but he didn't say that, either.

"So we save the galaxy for everyone else but can never live in it ourselves?"

"I didn't say that. I said we do the best we can. You've got me, you know, and I have all kinds of experience in how to live a normal life."

After a moment, she snorted. "Your idea of fun is minute calibrations on giant weaponry."

"That is fun."

"Hmph. Maybe we never knew how to live normal lives in the first place."

Garrus didn't deny that one. "Then that's what we have to look forward to, learning together how to enjoy a normal life."

"Oh, I like the sound of that."

"Me, too," he said, rocking her again, feeling the lessening of the tension in her, hoping she might be able to go back to sleep now. "Me, too."


	49. Amigo

_Thank you for reading!_

* * *

Garrus sighed and stretched. All these calibrations were more exhausting than he would ever admit. He liked the challenge, but every once in a while he wished the damned guns would just stay calibrated. Just for a little while. Of course, EDI would be glad to take on the task, and no doubt it would take her a fraction of the time it took Garrus—but he took pride in his work, and extra pride in the fact that he could calibrate the guns to a finer degree than she could, with all her technical know-how.

Still, he thought he had done just about enough for today. He hit his comm link. "Wrex. Skyllian Five?"

There was an echo of his own level of weariness in the growled reply. "Damned salarian's got me running all over the ship. Building up adrenaline levels or some nonsense like that. I told him if he wanted to see some krogan adrenaline, he should let me beat up a salarian."

"What did he say to that?"

There was a pause. "Eve smacked me on the quad—and not in the sexy way—and told me to have some respect."

Garrus chuckled. "I bet that did wonders for your adrenaline levels."

Another growl. "Much longer on this damned zoo of a ship and I won't have any adrenaline left."

"And here you were going to have enough stamina to personally repopulate Tuchanka, not to mention a few colony worlds."

"Person's gotta have a goal."

"Well, I'll let you get back to it."

Another pained growl, and Wrex clicked off. Garrus gave Eve a mental high-five for putting Wrex in his place so easily and effectively, and set off hunting for alternative entertainment.

Fortunately for him, he found it, only a few steps away from his door. James Vega stood at the stove flipping a pan of some kind of eggs.

"You mess up someone's gun and pull k.p. duty?"

"Nah, I just thought it was about time we got some decent food around here."

"If Gardner was still here, he'd wash your mouth out with soap."

"Might taste better than some of what comes out of this kitchen." Vega glanced at Garrus over his shoulder. "Bet you wish you could try some of this deliciousness."

Garrus shrugged. "I've got field rations. I'm sure it's equivalent."

Vega smiled, acknowledging the dig. "You don't travel with your own dextro supplies?"

"Who would cook it?"

"Whoa. Say it ain't so, Joe. The mighty Garrus Vakarian can't cook?"

"Turians have a very rigid hierarchy," Garrus protested.

"Oh, I see. You haven't achieved chef level yet. Well, keep at it, son. You'll get there."

"Big words for someone who's still wet behind the ears."

Vega added something red from a jar to the pan, dipping a fork in and taking a bite. " _Deliciosa_. Just like my Abuela used to make." He slid the eggs onto a plate before looking up at Garrus with a frown. "What does that mean, anyway, 'still wet behind the ears'?"

"You're asking me? It's a human saying. I'm just trying to fit in, man."

"Yeah, that ain't ever gonna happen." Hastily, he added, "Not that that's a bad thing, don't get me wrong. Still—humans are humans and turians are turians."

"So you think there's no common ground?"

"Nah, there is. But you can't pretend there aren't differences, otherwise, like, what's the point? I mean, if you use human phrases you don't understand, how am I ever going to learn turian phrases I don't understand?"

"Good point. All of our sayings are about war, though."

"We got a lot of that." Vega took a seat at one of the tables.

Garrus followed suit, pushing his chair back so he could stretch his legs out to the side. "Maybe we have too much."

Vega shook his head. "You know things are bad when a turian's complaining there's too much war. How are things on Palaven, anyway?"

"'Bout the same. The mass killings seem to have stopped, but you know what that means."

"Indoctrination," Vega said around a mouthful of eggs.

"Exactly."

"Not sure which is scarier."

"Aren't you?" Garrus asked in surprise. "I think indoctrination is worse. Losing control of your mind?" He shivered. "No, thank you."

"You'd rather be dead?"

Garrus nodded. "Simpler."

"What about your family? You hear from them?"

"Occasional bits of garbled messages. Enough to let me know they're still alive. What about you?"

"My uncle's out there working with the resistance—got with them as soon as there was a resistance to join. Last I heard my cousins were looking to get off-world and work with the Alliance, but that was a while ago." Vega looked down at his half-empty plate. "Things are pretty dark down there."

"They're going to be a lot darker before they get better."

"Well, aren't you just a bundle of optimism."

Garrus shrugged. "Turian, remember?"

"How do you get through it?"

"What, clawing your way out of one mess and into another, hoping your ass comes along for the ride?"

"No, that's the easy part. I'm good when there are things to shoot at, when I'm putting my own ass on the line. It's …" Vega gestured around them with a fork. "Flying around up here in space on the best ship in the galaxy cooking excellent eggs while the rest of the galaxy goes to hell."

"You have to get from firefight to firefight somehow."

"Yeah, I guess."

"But I know what you mean. And you're going to think I'm being corny. Maybe I am, under the circumstances."

"What, then?"

"Shepard."

Vega shook his head, grinning. "You would say that."

"I told you. But seriously—I was with her when no one believed Saren was a traitor but us. I was with her when we took down Sovereign, and when we were the only ones hunting the Collectors, and when we flew through the Omega 4 and destroyed the Collector base. I've never once seen her back down from what she believed in—and I've never seen her fail. We're going to defeat the Reapers, Vega. It might take a while, and we'll lose more of the people we love than we want to, but we're going to do it. Our job is to keep this ship and everyone on it ready for the fight at any moment."

Vega looked at him, thinking it over, and at last he gave a slow nod. "All right. I can buy that."

"Good. Remind me next time I'm the one who can't see my way through, will you?"

"You got it, _amigo_."

"That one of those human words I'm not supposed to understand?"

Vega smiled. "It means 'friend'."

"In that case, I leave you to your eggs … amigo."


	50. With Your Honor Intact

_Thank you for reading!_

* * *

In the shuttle, lifting off from Tuchanka, Garrus tried to imagine what mission could be so vital that Adrien Victus could only trust his son to accomplish it. Young Victus had been willing to abandon the mission until Shepard had challenged him on it, so maybe it wasn't that important … or maybe it wasn't that important to the turians. Could it be something that would damage the shaky beginnings of an alliance they were beginning to build with the krogan?

It almost had to be.

Javik spoke up suddenly, having apparently also been mulling over the disaster young Victus had made of his mission. "If a soldier that inept had been under my command, I would have marooned him in the desert, buried him in the sand up to his neck and let the wildlife feast on his eyes."

From the cockpit, Garrus saw Cortez glance at the Prothean over his shoulder, grinning.

"And if he survived that, I would have rewarded him by shooting him in the head."

"How does that teach someone … anything?" Shepard asked.

"In war, there is no time to teach. You accomplish your task or people die—and you cannot afford for people to die."

Garrus had to admit, he wasn't wrong. Young Victus had screwed up royally, and turians were not forgiving of those who waged war badly.

"You know anything about this secret mission, Garrus?" Shepard asked him.

He wished he had an answer for her, but he was as in the dark as she was. "No one told me anything."

"High up as you are in the Hierarchy?"

"Apparently this is above my clearance level." He clicked his mandibles thoughtfully. "Has to be something the krogan would be pissed to find out, something that puts them in danger, some piece of information on the genophage that was buried on their planet all this time ... Honestly, Shepard, I wish I knew."

"And they went there to remove it before the krogan could find it?" Shepard nodded. "An honorable mission. I approve."

Javik snorted.

"What?" Shepard snapped.

"They went there only because it might damage the alliance. Honor had nothing to do with it."

"How do you know?"

"Because he's more turian than any turian I've ever met," Garrus muttered.

Javik's eyes rested on Shepard with a certain amount of understanding. "The stories I grew up on, they were of warriors like you—those who believed in honor, who tried to fight the war while respecting the finer emotions. Back when we still had something left to save. By the time I was born, there was nothing left of our civilization but scraps. We saved what we could by whatever means necessary, but we focused on destruction of the Reapers. You still have hope that this war will end with your honor intact, and I … envy you that hope."

"You don't want to keep your honor?"

"I never had any to begin with," Javik said. He spoke with pride, but there was something under it, something in his voice that made Garrus wonder if that was strictly true. "I could not afford such a luxury."

"You can now," Shepard told him.

Garrus admired her determination. He always had. But he was a practical man, and he was all too afraid that Javik's way would win out in the end, and far sooner than Shepard wanted to believe.

"Do you think it was wise to force that young fool to continue leading his platoon, Commander?"

"I know, you would have shot him and put someone else in his place," Shepard said wearily. "But how would I have known which one to choose? And for that matter, what would shooting the Primarch's son have done to any hopes of an alliance between the humans and the turians, much less the turians and the krogan? We need them both. I couldn't afford to alienate the Primarch by not forcing his son back into a place that would give him the chance to earn back the respect of his men, and I couldn't afford to alienate the krogan by letting Victus's platoon give up on their mission."

The shuttle was docking, the bulky hunk of metal practically dancing in Cortez's experienced hands.

Javik studied Shepard in the aftermath of her outburst. "Hmph." He nodded. "Perhaps you are a warrior, after all."

"She's more than a warrior," Garrus snapped. "She's a Commander, possibly the best one in the galaxy. If you want to go up against her in a pissing contest, you'll lose every time, because you lack the most important thing Shepard has going for her—the ability to make other people believe in her, and to inspire them to greatness. You saw what she did down there. She gave young Victus the courage to take command. She gave him back his honor. You may think that's something we can all afford to jettison, but it's still what we're all fighting for. And if you can't be part of that, maybe we should just put you back in that cryogenic chamber and someone else can wake you up in fifty thousand years and instead of being part of the end of the Reapers, you can hear the legends about Commander Shepard and how she saved the whole damned galaxy."

The shuttle door opened and Garrus stomped off, not waiting for anyone else's reaction. His vehemence had been all the stronger because secretly, he was afraid Javik was right, and the only way to win the war would be to lose sight of who they wanted to be. But Shepard wasn't like that—and he was going to preserve that in her if it took everything he had to do it. Because if Shepard lost her belief in others, Garrus would know the galaxy really was doomed.

Behind him, he heard Javik commenting to Shepard, "There is some enjoyment in speaking with this turian. His knowledge of war is formidable, if … naïve." Before Garrus could feel particularly flattered by the Prothean's typically back-handed compliment, he heard Javik add, "But he would be a better marksman if he had four eyes."

Hmph. They would just see about that, next time they were in combat together. If Garrus couldn't outshoot a fifty-thousand-year-old member of a vanished species, he'd hang up his sniper rifle.


	51. Respect

_Thank you for reading!_

* * *

The Atlas exploded with the impact of Garrus's bullet. The fact that Shepard's bullet had landed at the same time might have helped, he admitted grudgingly as she cast him a triumphant glance.

Around them, the remaining turians were beginning to assemble now that all the Cerberus troops had been defeated. All but young Victus. He had been disarming the bomb. Looking up, Garrus saw the mechanism still in one piece, and the figure of the red-suited turian clinging to the side with one arm, opening a panel with the other.

The machine was shaking now, and Garrus realized what Tarquin Victus must surely already have known—he wasn't coming down from there. Not without the whole machine coming with him.

"Lieutenant!" Shepard shouted, but Victus ignored her.

"Victory at any cost," Garrus murmured. It was the turian way. He gave the brave young man a small salute even as the bomb trembled and fell. Young Victus fell with it, as Garrus had predicted, disappearing into the crater it made without a sound. There would be no body to retrieve, not mingled with that many tons of metal.

"Lieutenant!" Shepard shouted again, running to the side of the crater, looking in vain for any sign of the red hard suit.

"He's gone, Shepard," Garrus told her, pulling her gently away. The last thing anyone needed was for the crater to collapse with her on top of it.

"We could have—"

"There was nothing anyone could have done. Disarming the bomb was the mission—his mission. He needed to see it through, at any cost." He looked down into the crater. "He never hesitated, I'll say that for him."

The rest of young Victus's squad was assembling around them now. "Lieutenant did all right in the end," one of them admitted, not even all that grudgingly. It was a fair way from the grumbling and disrespect these same men had shown their squad leader when Garrus and Shepard had first come on them after the botched landing on the planet.

"Whatever he was before," agreed another, "he'll be remembered for this."

As one, they saluted the crater, and the man who lay insiide it. "Lieutenant Victus," they said, the name a eulogy all on its own.

Then they turned and the new leader stepped up to Shepard. "Much obliged, Commander. Tell the Primarch we're going back to Palaven for new orders. And … we're sorry for his loss."

"I'll tell him," Shepard promised. "Take care of yourselves."

"We'll hold the Reapers for you as long as we can, ma'am. Just let us know when you need us."

"Thank you."

She and Garrus watched them go. "So that's it?" Shepard asked him. "He had to sacrifice his life to earn their respect?"

"Not exactly. He had to sacrifice his life to complete the mission. Sacrifice in war is expected of a turian. That he did it with no hesitation or sign of fear earned their respect." He watched the retreating backs of the turian squad thoughtfully. "We're a hard bunch to please, all things considered. But he did us proud today."

"Turians have high standards."

"We expect everyone to live their life for the cause. Society first. Platoon first." He put an arm around her shoulder. "Not unlike a certain Commander I know. Galaxy first, in her case."

"You know you don't have to sacrifice yourself to earn my respect, right?"

"I can use the occasional reminder." Ahead of them, the shuttle settled itself on the ground. "Come on, let's get back to the ship."

"I don't look forward to having to tell the Primarch what happened to his son." Shepard climbed onto the shuttle and went to Cortez, putting a reassuring hand on his shoulder—like all of them, he worried about her when she was planet-side, only more so because he was the one who took her there—speaking to him briefly before coming back to take her seat next to Garrus. Javik sat mercifully silent, all his eyes closed. He had taken some metal during the fight, and though he said it was nothing but a scratch, it had clearly taken some energy out of him. Garrus wondered if he would let Chakwas take a look at him or insist on doing his own doctoring. His wound didn't seem too serious, so maybe it didn't matter much.

The shuttle lifted off the ground, and Garrus sighed, leaning his head back. "The one I don't look forward to talking to about this is Wrex."

"Yeah, he's not going to be a big fan of the turians today."

"Nope." Garrus shook his head. "I don't know what turian came up with the idea, but you have to admit a doomsday bomb buried in the soil of Tuchanka was damned ingenious. It's a brutal solution, but it makes a certain kind of sense, especially for the time. Put the krogan down hard if they tried anything. Embarrassing now … but ingenious back then."

"The galaxy really doesn't like to let go of its wars, does it?"

"Cunning," Javik said without opening his eyes. "We would have enjoyed adding your people to our empire, turian."

"By 'addition', you mean 'slave race', I take it?"

Javik grunted, but whether in pain or agreement, it was hard to say. "We preferred 'subservient'."

"Sure. Semantics always makes such a difference in situations like that."

"However, you did not go far enough," Javik added, as if he had been thinking about it carefully. "Either you should have detonated the bomb rather than allow it to lie dormant, or you should have used it as leverage."

"We were just trying to guarantee peace," Garrus protested. "We didn't want to actually use it."

One of Javik's eyes opened, glaring at Garrus. "A static mode of existence. Nothing changes, nothing struggles, nothing grows."

"And we all get to live another day."

Javik's eye closed again as the shuttle began docking procedures. Garrus looked at Shepard, waiting for her to weigh in, but she was tense, watching the door as though she thought the Primarch, or possibly Wrex, might come charging through it at any moment, even though they weren't fully docked yet.

"He'll understand," he told her.

"That's what I'm afraid of."

"You want me to come with you?"

"Yes, I think that would help. Thank you, Garrus."

"Of course." He had to admit, he didn't much want to tell the Primarch that his son was gone … but it had been a good death, a death with honor, and any turian would be proud of that. It would have to be enough.


	52. In True Turian Fashion

_Thank you for reading!_

* * *

Wrex and the Primarch were waiting in the War Room when Garrus and Shepard entered. As it happened, neither of them had to tell the Primarch anything. He could read it on Shepard's face, and no doubt in Garrus's own body language. Garrus saw him wince, and sigh, and straighten his shoulders in true turian fashion.

Oblivious to the unspoken language, Wrex stormed toward Shepard. Few humans could stand up to an angry krogan approaching them, and even fewer of Shepard's relatively slight stature, but she had been able to from the first moment, at least where Wrex was concerned. Her lack of fear was why he'd agreed to come along on the _Normandy_ in the first place, and a great deal of trust lay between them now. "Shepard, what was going on down there? I want to hear it from you."

"They had a bomb buried there, Wrex."

"They had a what?!"

"A bomb. Buried there long ago, after the Krogan Rebellions. The Primarch sent his son's squad to defuse it, which they did. The Primarch's son … won't be coming back."

That took the edge off Wrex's anger a bit. "Hmph," he grunted. "Too bad."

With what Garrus thought was unusual grace, he didn't take the moment to remind the Primarch that at least he was able to have sons, unlike the krogan.

"So it's over now," Shepard said with determination.

"Over? You tell me they had a bomb buried on my planet for centuries and I'm finding this out only after the mission where it could have gone off, and you think it's over? I've got Reapers on my planet, a bomb that almost blew it up, and if those fail, the genophage to make sure we all go extinct anyway. Nothing's over!" Wrex turned on the Primarch. "Why wasn't this done years ago? Decades?"

"You can't be serious," Garrus put in.

Wrex ignored him, his eyes fixed on Victus.

The Primarch shook his head wearily. "We couldn't risk another intergalactic war with the krogan. Not at the end of the rebellions when we put it in, and not at any time since. You have to admit, Wrex, that before you started bringing your people together the krogan were lawless and wild, as much a danger to each other as to the rest of the galaxy. To tell you, to try to put a mission together to disarm the bomb, anything we might have done would have resulted in a new war."

"Wasn't the genophage enough? Generations of unborn children? You had to put a bomb on my planet, too?"

"The decision was made hundreds of years ago. So much has changed!" Victus protested.

Wrex stepped up into the Primarch's face. "Not enough to tell us about the bomb, coward!"

"Because this is what would have happened!" Victus shouted back.

Then Shepard stepped between them, and Garrus found some amusement in the tall turian and the giant krogan both moving back under the light touch of Shepard's small human hands. She glared up at both of them. "Stop this. You are leaders of your people, about to brawl like little boys in a schoolyard. You both have to stop living in the past! We can't let galactic history rip us apart. Working together, we have a chance. Apart, the Reapers will take out our civilizations one by one."

Both men looked down at her uncomfortably, neither one used to admitting he had been wrong.

"Primarch, you had a bomb on Tuchanka. You didn't tell me, you didn't tell Wrex. But Wrex, in the turians' place, you would have done the same damned thing, and you know it."

"Shepard …" Wrex protested.

"It's over, Wrex. Primarch Victus lost his own son today making things right."

Victus held up a hand. "Please, Commander. He's right. We … should have told him."

Wrex eyed the Primarch with grudging respect. "Yes. Fine. Shepard, you made your point. We have stronger enemies to fight." He growled. "Still, I'm going to expect total honesty going forward."

"I will do my best," Victus responded.

"Hmph." Wrex turned around and headed for the door. Seeing Garrus standing there, he stopped. In a fairly quiet voice—for him—he asked, "My good friend wouldn't have hidden the fact that his people planted a doomsday bomb on my planet, right?"

"Wrex, I was just as in the dark as you. Honest."

"That's what I needed to hear." He poked Garrus in the side. "Just making you sweat. Wasn't sure you could—you're always so calm."

"I'd be happy to give the krogan some lessons on relaxing."

"Heh. And we'd be happy to feed you to a thresher maw. Can't imagine anything more relaxing than that."

With that, he stalked out of the room. Garrus could practically feel the floor shiver under his heavy footfalls. Shaking his head, he left the doorway and joined Shepard and Victus. "I'm glad he's taking this so well. Our people haven't exactly treated his with charity, and this could easily have been the last straw." He turned to Victus. "My condolences, sir. Your son was a brave young man. He died in the service of his mission, and his last act was completing it."

The Primarch nodded. "His sacrifice will be recorded in the histories of the Ninth Platoon. Any father would be proud of that."

"I'm sorry, Primarch. We tried to cover him, but the bomb … there was no time."

"I understand. And I hope you understand why I needed to keep the truth of the mission from you, Commander."

She shook her head. "I'm not sure I do. I believe secrets just get people killed."

"I suppose so. It's … This was the hardest lesson I'm ever to learn." His voice had dropped to a whisper, his subharmonics faded almost to silence. The news and the effort to bear it like a turian rather than like a father was taking a toll on him. "I … If you'll excuse me?"

"Of course. I'm very sorry for your loss, Primarch. He seemed like a fine young man."

"Thank you. And … well, my son died with the respect of his men, his honor restored. I know you did that. You have my gratitude." He bowed his head slightly to Shepard and left the room.

Left alone, Shepard turned a stricken face up to Garrus. "God, that was awful. That poor man."

Garrus nodded, but he didn't want to talk about it. So he did the next best thing—he held his arms out for her, and they held each other for a long time.


	53. Cranky

_Thank you for reading!_

* * *

They could see the Citadel in front of them, the great shining metal construction gleaming in the darkness of space, coming ever closer as the _Normandy_ approached.

"Anyone else ever find this disturbing, the way the legs open up and you fly inside?" Joker asked.

Shepard, long used to Joker's sense of humor, didn't bother to look up from her datapad. Garrus grunted, too tense even to protest the metaphor.

"Seriously, Garrus, nothing? No long-winded reponse, no awkward references to vids on the subject?"

"I believe Jeff is trying to liken the _Normandy_ 's approach to the Citadel to—"

"I got it, EDI, thanks," Garrus snapped.

At the tone in his voice, Shepard did look up. She smiled at him and touched him on the arm before turning to the pilot. "Transport to Huerta Memorial, please, Joker."

"I'll call it in."

Shepard left the cockpit, and Joker swiveled his chair around, looking up at Garrus. He had a few moments while the tractor beam pulled them toward the docking bay before he had to be back at the controls again.

"What?" Garrus snapped as the pilot continued to stare at him.

Joker lifted an eyebrow. "So that's why you get cranky every time we get near the Citadel."

"I worked there for several years. Years I don't like to be reminded of."

"Right. And this wouldn't have anything to do with a certain human Spectre and a certain other human who's about to be made a Spectre?"

"I've never wanted to be a Spectre," Garrus said stiffly. It was mostly the truth.

"Yes, that's exactly what I meant."

The voice of the docking lieutenant came over the comm, and Joker turned his chair around. Garrus was about to follow Shepard out of the cockpit when EDI approached him. "Garrus, may I ask a question?"

"Does it have anything to do with what Joker was alluding to?"

"No."

"Fire away."

"The last time we were docked at the Citadel, I noticed many displays of public affection. Abnormally high rates, or so it seemed."

"Why are you asking me about this?"

"I thought you might have noticed it, too. You have, as you mentioned, spent a great deal of time on the Citadel."

Garrus shrugged. He couldn't say that he'd seen more … affection than usual. Not that he could remember, at least. "I suppose when you think you might die tomorrow, one of the few things you can do to forget, to hold on to a precious memory, is to … hook up." How many precious memories were Shepard and Kaidan going to talk about? he wondered. Would their former feelings for each other rekindle? Would Garrus have to bow out gracefully so that she could be with a human, someone who could give her children and share her food and not accidentally give her bruises rolling over in bed because his bones were so much harder than hers? He would, of course. Anything for her. But he would hate it, and he would probably have to leave the _Normandy_.

"Does hooking up make people unhappy?" EDI asked, alert as always to the slightest changes in body language. "My research has indicated the opposite."

"No," he told her, "usually it works in the moment … but later it often turns out to be not such a good idea."

"I see. Thank you, Garrus. You have been most helpful."

He didn't see how, but he was glad he'd answered her question. As the _Normandy_ came to a halt in its assigned docking bay, he joined Shepard. "So, after the hospital, what next?"

She sighed heavily. "Oh, the Council, and Udina. Stop in at the Spectre office—a salarian named Jondam Bau wants to talk to me about the hanar and a thief that I think must be Kasumi."

"I know Bau. He's a good man. He'll probably see reason about Kasumi, and he'll be a good ally if you can work with him."

"I hope so. You think I can get her back on board the _Normandy_?"

"Only if you have something fabulous that needs to be stolen."

She frowned. "I wish it was likely to be that simple."

"Me, too. Hey, Shepard."

"What's up?"

"You and me, on the Citadel … what do you say to a little shore leave? Dinner, maybe some dancing, maybe find a private place somewhere …"

Shepard smiled. "Sounds nice, but not this trip. Maybe next time. Think of your favorite place."

Garrus followed her, dissatisfied. Something about her today … Or maybe it was him. Or maybe it was Kaidan Alenko, still lying in that hospital bed all vulnerable and sympathetic, playing on her heartstrings. Whatever it was, he felt more anxious than he had in a long time.


	54. What You Came Here For

_Thank you for reading!_

* * *

The doors of Huerta Memorial slid open and Garrus hesitated before stepping through. He had waited a good couple of hours to ensure that Shepard would be in with the Council or closeted in Udina's office, but even now, he wasn't certain he should be here. Beneath his anxiety and his … yes, his jealousy, lay an uneasy conviction that what he was thinking was unfair to Shepard. Possibly it was unfair to Kaidan, as well.

But it seemed he couldn't help himself, because he was walking in the doors, stopping at the desk to make inquiries, and following the directions to Kaidan's room.

He tapped at the door, hearing the familiar raspy voice call out a careless "Come in."

Kaidan was packing a duffel bag as Garrus walked in, turning as the doors slid shut to see who his visitor was. "Garrus! Didn't expect to see you here."

"I bet you didn't."

The quick smile faltered at the blunt comment. "I kind of thought one of you might come by. Liara, Joker … you. We were all friends once, weren't we?"

Garrus looked him in the eye. "That was before you broke her heart on Horizon."

"Yeah, I heard about the two of you." Kaidan frowned at him. "She forgave me for that. Why can't you?"

"Because she's Shepard and I'm not. Because I—I was the one who was there picking up the pieces, seeing how devastated she was."

Kaidan swallowed, looking away, listlessly picking up a shirt and trying to fold it. "I'm sorry about that."

"Good. You should be."

"That what you came to tell me? Because you could have put that in an email."

"No." When it came right down to the moment, Garrus had to admit he wasn't entirely sure what he had come to tell Kaidan. Or to ask him. Maybe he'd just wanted to see for himself, to gauge from Kaidan's response where he and Shepard stood. And for the moment, he was getting nothing.

"Then what are you here for, Garrus? Because as you can see, I'm about to get out of here, and I really don't want to have to stick around this hospital room any longer than I have to having an awkward conversation with you about my past with Shepard."

What about your future with Shepard? Garrus wanted to ask. But he couldn't get the words out. Instead, he said, "So you're all healed up, huh?"

"Looks like it. Still not quite ready to get the biotics fully back online, but everything else seems to be working. At least, Dr. Michel seems to think so." There was a faint flush on Kaidan's face, and Garrus's heart leapt with hope. Several of the vids he had watched had shown humans in hospitals getting amorous with their nurses. Could he hope that in this case it was the doctor who had drawn Kaidan's attention?

"So what now?"

"Well … Shepard asked me if I wanted to come back on board the _Normandy_."

Garrus held his breath. She couldn't have. That couldn't happen. Day after day on the _Normandy_ with Kaidan and Shepard? That would kill him.

Kaidan went on, "But … Udina offered me the chance to become a Spectre. The second human Spectre! I couldn't turn that down."

"No, I can see that." It really was quite an honor. And one Kaidan had clearly earned for himself—the last thing Shepard had any interest in doing was asking Udina for favors, so there was almost no chance she'd had a hand in this selection. "Congratulations, man."

"Thanks. It's … humbling. Those are big shoes to fill, and I—I'm not sure I'm ready."

"Udina must be, or he wouldn't have offered. He doesn't do anything out of pity. Or kindness."

Kaidan laughed. "You've got that right." He tossed the half-folded shirt in the duffel. "It's strange to think."

"What?"

"I should have died on Mars. But instead, I got brought back here, I got the promotion from Anderson, Spectre status … In these terrible times, I've been lucky. It's … I wish I could be back on Earth, fighting in the resistance with Anderson, defending my home. But if I can't be there, I want to be here, defending the galaxy from the Reapers. Shepard has a terrible responsibility on her shoulders, and I want to help in any way I can."

Garrus should have admired and agreed with the sentiment. He did admire and agree with it. But he couldn't help the tightening in his gut wondering if Shepard was part of Kaidan's luck, and if helping her any way he could went farther than simple comradely support. Spirits, he hated himself right now, but he couldn't seem to get past it.

"Well, take care of yourself," he said, unable to think of any graceful way to get the answers he sought.

"Garrus. Wait."

"What?"

"I know what you came here for."

"You do?"

Kaidan nodded. "Yeah. It's what I would have come here for if our situations were reversed. I … have to admit, when I heard about the two of you, I … thought some things I'm not proud of. About both of you, about cross-species relationships … I was bitter, and angry, and I felt betrayed by the Cerberus thing and by your relationship. But—then I had a chance to calm down, and a chance to think, and … well, I don't know how I didn't see it before."

"See what before?" Garrus asked, completely confused.

"That it was always you. I mean, sure, she and I were involved, and I think she cared about me … but never the same way. She was always running down to the cargo bay to talk to you, and you could get her to stop and eat, or rest, when no one else could. She talked to you in a way she never talked to anyone else. She trusted you. I think she already loved you, she just didn't know it yet." Kaidan took a step toward Garrus, his open face showing nothing but his trademark earnestness. "Look, I get why you're thinking what you're thinking, I do. She's—well, it's hard to believe she's with you, even when you hold her in your arms. But let this be the last time. You have her, Garrus. All of her. Trust her."

Before he could think about what he was saying, Garrus admitted, "I hate that I think these things."

"I get that. But—trust me, all that is over now. Shepard is with you, and only you. There's nothing left between us but what lies between all soldiers who have had each other's back in combat, and lived through hard things."

"We're past all that stuff about Cerberus?"

"Completely past it. I don't know that I understand what she was doing, but—I know she did it for the right reasons." Kaidan hesitated, then reached out a hand. "And I'd like it if we can get past this. We used to be friends, Garrus."

Garrus took the offered hand and shook it. "We are friends, Kaidan. We just took a little hiatus."

"Good." Shyly, Kaidan grinned. "And if I get really lucky, maybe next time you and Shepard are on the Citadel, we can double date."

"Oh, so that's why you're taking hours packing."

"Caught me."

"Well, I'll get out of here before I ruin the mood. Take care of yourself, Kaidan."

"You, too. And, Garrus?"

Garrus stopped in the doorway and looked back at his friend.

"Take care of her."

"Nothing is going to happen to her."

"Good. The galaxy can't do without her again."


	55. Life Goes On

_Thank you for reading!_

* * *

After he left the hospital, Garrus wandered aimlessly, feeling ashamed of himself and his concerns about Shepard and Kaidan. He should have trusted her all along. He couldn't believe he had been so blinded by his own insecurities and his petty jealousies.

In the hours before she was finished with her meetings, he wavered back and forth between wanting to go down on his knees in front of her in abject apology to offering to end things because he wasn't worthy of her—and every option in between.

By the time he finally found her on the Presidium, he had a terrible headache and no clear answers as to what the right course of action might be.

"Shepard, I have to talk to you."

She turned a distressed face up to him. "Garrus, I'm so glad you're here. I—I have to do this, and I don't want to." She held up a data stick, and Garrus, distracted by his own concerns, stared at it blankly for a few moments before remembering.

"Ah, damn."

"Exactly."

They had found the stick on the body of a dead krogan on Utukku, victim of the twisted children of the captured rachni queen. Later in the privacy of their quarters, they had listened to enough of it to know who it was to be returned to. Ereba. Garrus remembered her, and her mate Charr, vividly. They had first seen the couple on Illium—Charr was still the only krogan Garrus had ever met who wrote poetry. And good poetry, at that, at least to Garrus's untrained ears. Ereba had been waffling between ending things with him and remaining with him, and Shepard had talked her into remaining, convincing her to believe in love. Garrus had been struck by the simplicity of Shepard's encouragement to the asari to follow her heart, a more romantic point of view than he had expected from Shepard at the time.

"They had time together because of you, Zia," he said softly.

"And now they don't." She curled her fingers around the data stick. "This is the worst part of this job, telling someone you were too late to save the person they loved."

He couldn't argue with that part. He put a reassuring hand on her shoulder, and Shepard squeezed it before moving down the stairs toward the shop where Ereba worked.

The asari smiled when she saw them approach. "Commander Shepard! And … Major Vakarian."

It wasn't quite the right level of address, but Garrus couldn't have cared less about those niceties anyway.

"Ereba. I'm … I found this. It's—it's for you." Shepard handed the data stick over.

Ereba pressed play on the voice recorder, already looking distressed by it, even before she heard the message. Charr's voice came from it. "O Blue Rose of Illium, if these humble words reach you, then I have joined my ancestors."

"No!" The data stick fell from her hand with a clatter as Ereba grasped the counter to hold herself up. Tears welled in her eyes and rolled silently down her cheeks as Charr's voice continued. "My dream was to be by your side, a weed beside your beauty, twining together in the warm Tuchanka sun. But if my last days must be with krannt instead of kindness, still …" Charr's voice was fading, his breathing growing more harsh. "I will remember … the perfume of your scent and the … soft touch of your petals. Let my broken bones … build a wall around your garden … so you and … and the flower we planted together … can grow safe and … strong." The last word was little more than a breath.

Holding on to the edge of the counter, Ereba tried to get herself under control. "Oh, Charr …"

"He died bravely, surrounded by his men. They supported one another to the end," Shepard told her. "And his sacrifice will not be in vain. We are closer to defeating the Reapers because of him."

"Is that what I should tell my daughter when she wants to know why she never got to know her father?" Ereba asked. "His overblown poetry, the way he thought that ruined, blasted planet was paradise, the … the way he held me like I was the most … the most precious thing …" Her voice dissolved in tears. Swiping at them ineffectually, she shook her head. "I'm sorry, maybe that will comfort me someday, but for now—I have to go to my daughter. Excuse me."

She disappeared into the back of the shop, leaving Shepard and Garrus watching the door she had gone through helplessly.

"She had to know," Shepard said.

"She did. She'll be all right—she's strong."

"Maybe. I hope so." She sighed. "Come on."

They walked off through the busy marketplace, people bustling past them in all sorts of moods. "Life goes on, Shepard," Garrus said. "It's what we're fighting for, isn't it, that people can still have time to grieve and to complain about a defective toaster and to be angry at the rude sales clerk?"

"You make it all sound so worthwhile," Shepard said dryly.

"It is." He hesitated. "I … went to see Kaidan."

"I thought you might."

"I've been an ass."

She smiled. "A little bit."

Garrus pulled her to a halt. "I'm sorry, Zia. I should never have let him become so … formidable in my head. I should have trusted you more."

"Yeah. You should have."

"It's just … someone like Kaidan—or, you know, Kaidan exactly … he can share your food, and doesn't have to worry about being toxic to you, and—and I …"

"And you thought you'd decide for me how I felt about all those things without asking?"

He hoped he looked as sheepish as he felt. "Something like that."

"Promise you won't ever do that again?"

"I promise to try."

"Good." Zia nodded crisply. Then she smiled, her brown eyes warming. "If it makes you feel any better, most of the bets were on you."

"Bets?"

"On who would win if the two of you got in a brawl over me."

"You know about that?"

"Yeah, but don't tell Vega. He thinks he's sneaky."

"He told EDI, and he stlll thinks he's sneaky?"

"He's got a lot to learn." She grinned. "Then again, so do you. Come on, let's go have a good dinner and pretend we've already won."

"That sounds really nice."


	56. Hope

_Thank you for reading!_

* * *

As they stepped aboard the shuttle that would take them down to Tuchanka, Garrus couldn't help but notice that Shepard looked distracted, her eyes on the door of the shuttle as it closed as if she had left something behind on the _Normandy._ He touched her gently on the arm, giving her a questioning look.

She opened her mouth as if to say something, then shut it again with a frown and shook her head. "Wrex. We have a plan?" she said instead.

"'Course we have a plan. We'll take an armored convoy against the Reaper, take that baby out, maybe let the turians get a few shots in, and then—bam! Genophage cure." He nodded. "This will be the defining moment of krogan history."

"Yes," Padok Wiks said thoughtfully. "A paradigm shift. The ramifications will be felt for centuries."

Wrex didn't bother to answer that one. Eve, sitting silent in her corner of the shuttle, spoke up suddenly. "Commander Shepard, you seem troubled."

Shepard nodded. "I got a message from the—"

But whatever she was going to say was lost as turbulence shook the shuttle.

"Hang on," Cortez called from the controls.

An unmistakably krogan voice came through the speakers. "Wrex, it's Wreav. Come out with guns blazing! The party's started."

The landing site was overrun with husks, so everyone turned to those first. Garrus found it almost enjoyable to be picking off husks again with Wrex at his side, if you could forget the destruction everywhere else in the galaxy. Then, with the husks down, the shuttle from the _Normandy_ began to empty, and it was immediately clear to Garrus that no one had informed the rest of the krogan that a salarian and a turian were going to be among the party. There was a fairly tense standoff, broken only by Eve, who made the line of aggressive krogan men look like small over-eager boys. She informed them in no uncertain terms that the turian was with her, and the salarian was the only reason she was alive and there was hope for their race, and the first person to make a move against either one was getting a bullet in the brain. She underscored this by grabbing a gun from Wrex's belt and taking out two husk stragglers who were almost on top of one of the krogan on the edge of the group.

Things went much more swiftly after that, to Garrus's relief, and soon they found their small _Normandy_ party loaded on a transport rumbling across the battered earth of Tuchanka.

Seeing this Wreav, who turned out to be his half-brother, had deflated Wrex somewhat. "He's not going to be happy with just curing the genophage," Wrex said thoughtfully. "He's going to want restitution."

"The galaxy isn't going to be ready for that," Garrus pointed out. Hell, most of the galaxy wasn't ready for a genophage cure.

Eve shook her head. "He won't be the only one. You'll have to placate them somehow, Wrex."

Wrex shifted in his seat, looking off over Garrus's shoulder as he considered. "I'll demand the Council return some of our old territory. We'll need room to expand—recapture the glory of the ancients."

"Krogan expansion is how this whole conflict began," Wiks warned him. "The galaxy will remember. It will not be an easy task."

"The krogan were once a proud people. We had dreams—a future to look forward to. We will have that again." Eve looked affectionately at the salarian. "Thanks to you."

"My people uplifted you. It wasn't an improvement. And created the genophage with the turians. Only fair that salarian and turian fix what was done."

"I agree," Garrus said. Despite some misgivings, this felt right. It felt like hope. "I'm … proud to be part of setting things right."

"Your genophage was horrible," Eve said, her voice heavy with emotion. "The pain it has caused—I cannot express it. But the krogan destroyed Tuchanka long before we were uplifted. Technology had changed us. It made life too easy. We looked for new challenges and found them in each other. Nuclear war was inevitable."

Wrex leaned forward. "Now our planet is rubble. We'll need a new place to live."

Garrus nodded. "If you help us defeat the Reapers, that will go a long way toward reconciling the galaxy to a growing krogan population on a new planet."

Shepard hadn't spoken since they got back on the transport, her mind clearly elsewhere, on whatever had distracted her aboard the shuttle. Garrus nudged her, and she looked up at him, startled, then nodded decisively and spoke up.

"Before we left the _Normandy_ the dalatrass tried to cut a secret deal with me."

The transport went silent, everyone's eyes on Shepard.

"She told me they sabotaged the Shroud years ago so that no one could do what we're trying to do today. The cure won't work unless we fix it." She looked at Wiks. "Can you fix it?"

He thought rapidly, then nodded. "Yes. Now that I know, I can account for it."

"Would you have known before?" Wrex asked.

"Not if it was subtle enough. But I will know what to look for. Never fear."

Wrex growled, but Eve reached out a hand and grasped Shepard's. "You just spared our race another genocide, Commander."

"I told you we could count on her," Wrex said, sitting back and grinning as though Shepard was his own creation.

"So you did," Eve replied, humoring him. "So you did."

Garrus put a hand on Shepard's shoulder. "And the salarians?"

She shook her head. "No help from them if we cure the genophage."

Wrex grunted. "That'll last until the Reapers come knocking on their planet, then they'll be begging for the krogan to save them. That'll be a good day." He leaned his head back against the wall of the transport, clearly enjoying the fantasy.

"Let's get this done first before we consider how to embarrass our enemies when they ask us for favors, huh, Wrex?" Shepard said dryly.

"Sure thing, Shepard. Time to take down a Reaper!"


	57. A Damned Hero

_Thank you for reading!_

* * *

It was a subdued ship that flew away from Tuchanka that night. Odd, really, Garrus thought, that they should be so affected by the day's events. On paper, it had been an unmitigated triumph—the genophage cured, Eve and Wrex poised to lead the krogan into a new era, the Reaper that had been threatening the planet gone, buried deep in the hard radiated soil by Kalros, the mother of all thresher maws.

But the _Normandy_ was surprisingly quiet. In addition to having left Wrex and Eve off to start their new life, they had lost a crew member. Padok Wiks. He had been a keep-to-himself sort, you'd have hardly known he was there—but he had given his life for the future of another species, and that was something to take seriously. To think about with reverence.

And so it was that they gathered in the port lounge with glasses of wine in their hands. "To Padok Wiks," Shepard said, raising her glass toward the window full of stars. "He said to me that some people die in battle, some in their sleep, and some for no reason at all, but this was his chance to die for something he believed in. May we all be so fortunate."

"To Wiks," they echoed, and drank.

"He left his own people to save another species, one with whom he had always been taught to be at war," Liara said softly. "How many have that sort of courage?"

In the silence that followed, Garrus raised his glass. "Eve did. She put herself on the line for her people, to end their suffering and give them new life. She stood against them when they would have turned on all of us and doomed themselves to a stunted future to go with their stunted past. To Eve, who led the way."

"Bakara," Shepard corrected. "To Urdnot Bakara. Clan leader."

After they drank, Specialist Traynor added, "And her idea to use Kalros to take down the Reaper!"

Cortez shook his head. "Man, I have never seen anything like that. I hope never to see it again."

"Come on, Esteban. You have to admit that was a pretty amazing sight, watching that thresher maw launch itself at the Reaper."

It had been impressive, Garrus thought, remembering it, the way Kalros had snaked her way across the planet and curled herself around the Reaper. It had fought back, but it had really never had a chance.

Shepard raised her glass. "To Kalros. She bought us enough time to complete our mission, and took down one of our ancient enemies in the process."

No one thought about how many of those ancient enemies still remained. They simply drank to the thresher maw.

"To Urdnot Wrex." EDI's glass was empty—did robots drink? Garrus wondered if she might have enjoyed some lubricating oil—but she lifted it with the others anyway. "Who is beginning a new life, and creating a new world for his people."

"To hear him tell it, he'll be creating a lot of those new people himself," Garrus said dryly. "Personally, I'm just glad to have gotten off the planet in one piece. They do say female krogan have a thing for guys with scars." He turned his head, displaying his.

Everyone laughed at that, including Shepard, whose smile he had really been trying to coax free. "Those are my scars," she told him, "and I'd have fought any krogan female who laid a finger on them."

"That's hot, Lola," Vega said, grinning at her. "I'd have liked to see that." He glanced at Garrus. "What do you think, Scars?"

Cortez saved Garrus from having to say anything embarrassing by breaking in with a chuckle. "I don't think any krogan, female or otherwise, is going to be crossing the Commander any time soon. Not after that speech of Wrex's." He raised his glass to Shepard. "To Commander Shepard, champion of the krogan people, friend of Clan Urdnot …"

"And sister to Urdnot Wrex," Garrus added, thinking of his old friend with affection.

Shepard blushed, but they drank to her.

"Commander, what will the krogan do now?" Allers asked.

Specialist Traynor nudged her. "I don't think this is the time for an interview. Have another drink."

"Maybe later, Allers," Garrus told her. He had his eye on Shepard, who was both exhausted and heading toward tipsy, and wanted to make sure she was protected.

The reporter looked abashed, and a little disappointed, but she didn't bring it up again.

"To the krogan," Vega said, bringing them back around to the celebrating—and the drinking—at hand.

Liara smiled, raising her glass. "And the battle songs they will sing about today's victory." She grinned. "And all the other songs they will sing as they celebrate."

They all chuckled, Vega somewhat uncomfortably. "Hey, Commander, you don't think that stuff they sprayed … well, I wouldn't want to wake up in the morning with a hump."

"I believe you are already considered to have quite a quad on you, Lieutenant Vega, at least, according to many of the crew," EDI commented. Vega blushed in the laughter that followed.

"I'm sure we'll be fine, Lieutenant," Garrus assured him. "Wiks was a professional. He knew what he was doing."

Shepard looked out the window, taking a long sip of her wine. "He was that. He knew what would happen to him, and he went up in the tower anyway. He was a damned hero."

"That he was," Cortez said softly.

Liara nodded. "Even Wrex agreed in the end. Do you think Wiks knew that Wrex had come to understand that not all salarians are his enemy?"

"I think so. I hope so," Garrus said. "He knew that was how Eve felt, and how powerful she was, so I'm sure he knew she'd bring Wrex, and eventually the rest of the krogan, around."

"Even now the krogan are gathering to go to Palaven." Allers looked over at Shepard. "Does this mean we will have the turians' help for Earth?"

"It should," Shepard said cautiously. "And the krogan, as well. One step closer to taking back our home—" She looked at Garrus and took his hand. "Our homes," she corrected herself. She lifted her almost empty glass to the stars. "To the people of Earth, and Palaven, and every other planet currently under the shadow of the Reapers. May their strength and bravery hold until we can come for them."

The rest of them raised their glasses as one. "To the people."

Shortly thereafter, EDI was called back to the bridge, and Allers and Traynor left to finish some reports. Liara was pinged by Glyph, her portable assistant, to return to her quarters for an update on some hush-hush Shadow Broker mission, and Cortez and Vega got into a friendly argument about some human sports team and went down to the cargo bay to watch vids to see who was right.

Shepard and Garrus were left alone. He put an arm around her shoulders, tugging her against him. "You all right?"

"Fine."

"You're exhausted."

"Thank you for the report."

She was, though, dark circles showing underneath her big brown eyes.

"Why don't you get some sleep? We won't be at Palaven for a while yet, I can wake you when it's time to drop off the Primarch."

Shepard put her glass down. "I have reports to write. I'll sleep when I'm dead."

"You already were once," Garrus said, more sharply than he'd intended. "And we both know you need a clear head for whatever is going to come next." He turned her gently around to face him, cupping her cheek with one hand. "Is it the nightmares?"

She didn't have to answer. It was there in her eyes.

"Come on," he told her. "I'll come up with you, see if I can't wear you out a little more first."

"The sacrifices you make, Vakarian."

"It's a rough job, but someone has to do it."


	58. In the Darkest Hour

_Thank you for reading!_

* * *

As Garrus had suspected would be the case, Shepard could barely keep her eyes open by the time they made it to her quarters, and she was asleep before Garrus had removed enough of her clothing for comfort … but she still woke hours later in the middle of the nightmare. She clung to him, shivering, while he patted her back and made the most soothing noises he could manage. At last she broke away, reaching for an object lying on her nightstand, holding it tightly. He had noticed it several days ago, but had not gotten around to asking her about it.

Seeing the way she grasped it now, he couldn't help but be curious. "Where did that come from?"

"It was Eve's. Bakara's. She gave it to me—I don't know why."

"Was it special to her?"

"Oh, yes! She told me the story of how she found it. She had gone away, on a pilgrimage, into a cave, and was left there for days, without food or water. She had to find her own way out."

"Damn, krogan are tough."

"Aren't they?"

Shepard handed him the object, and Garrus turned it around in his hands. It was an oblong crystal, chipped and worn on the ends.

"She said she was digging in the cave, looking for the way out, when she realized she had been tunneling in the wrong direction all this time. And then she found this. And she used it to keep digging when her fingers were too worn and painful to use her bare hands any longer. I asked her what she learned from her experience, and she said 'in the darkest hour, there is always a way out'."

Garrus nodded. "A remarkably optimistic worldview for a krogan."

"If she wasn't remarkable, none of this would have happened."

"That's very true." He put the crystal back into Shepard's hand, folding her fingers closed over it. "And you wonder why she gave this to you?"

"Well, I'm not a krogan."

He chuckled. "Not according to Wrex. Or Grunt. Or, it seems, Bakara. Besides which, who in the galaxy is likely to see darker hours than you? If this represents Bakara's hopes for the future, she's given them to you, so that they can help you in the depths of your own darkness."

"What will she have? I don't want to take away her hopes."

"Don't you see, Zia? You were her crystal. You were the tool that dug through the rubble of Tuchanka and brought forth a new spring, a new path forward out of the darkness. The fact that you exist, that you're out here working toward her people's future and mine and your own and Wiks's, and the galaxy's as a whole, is all the crystal she needs."

He had meant to be comforting, but her eyes welled with tears. "I can't carry all those people's hopes, Garrus! What if I fail?" She turned an anguished face up to him. "All these people are looking to me, and I'm just … one person. What if I fail, or if I die, or if … I'm just not enough?"

"That's what the rest of us are here for." Garrus cupped her face. "I promise you, no matter what happens, I won't quit until the Reapers are ended. None of us will."

"But I don't want to get all of you killed, too!"

He kissed her forehead, and her nose, and her lips. "Trust me, Zia, none of us wants to die, either. But if that's the way it goes down, this is worth doing. Saving the galaxy, or at least trying, is worth my life. I don't know if it's worth yours … but that's your decision, and I stand behind you. Always."

Zia held on to his wrists, lifting her face to kiss him again. "I couldn't do this without you. I wouldn't want to."

"I know. I'm here. I wouldn't want you to do this without me, either. Wherever you go, I want to be with you, to watch your back and keep you safe." He kissed her face again, lingering on her lips, exploring her mouth slowly and softly. One hand left her face and moved down her side, wrapping around her hip and tugging her body against his. "We can do this. Together."

She tilted her head to the side as he kissed his way down her neck. "Together," she repeated softly, clinging to him.

Garrus rocked against her, feeling her soft curves melting against him under the gentle touches of his mouth and hands. He lifted her leg, wrapping it around his hip, opening her to him more fully, and she gasped as he found her center. He moved rhythmically, more focused on her rising passion, on the heaviness of her breathing and the little sighs of pleasure that came from her, than on his own. He accompanied his movements by caresses and kisses, wanting her to feel safe and loved and protected, if only here in this private darkness.

At last she arched against him, throwing her head back as her body trembled against him. Garrus was so lost in her response that his own peak came to him as something of a surprise, and he called her name as it washed over him.

They lay together, face to face, letting the faint rumble of the engines and the burble of the filters in the aquarium lull them.

"Thank you," Zia whispered. "For being here."

"Nowhere else I'd rather be."

"Me, neither. I wish—I wish it could just be us. Just for a little while."

"It will be. Some day. When all this is over."

"You sound awfully sure of that."

"Well, when I lose sight of it, you can remind me."

She snuggled in closer, tucking her head under his chin. "I can do that."

Slowly her body relaxed into sleep again. Garrus lay a long time just listening to her breathe and feeling the soft breaths against his carapace, thanking the spirits that he could be here for her.


	59. We're Taking the Citadel Back

_Thank you for reading!_

* * *

Shepard was rested—by her definition if not necessarily by Garrus's—by the time they reached the outskirts of Palaven. Cortez got the shuttle ready, and the Primarch gathered his things and prepared to return to the fight.

He held out his hand to Shepard. "Commander, I had my doubts when you told me you needed me to leave my men, my people, and my home and come make nice with the krogan … but there are already troops on their way to help me defend my planet. Krogan troops fighting for the turian homeworld. Galactic history rewritten. Thank you."

"I'm just glad it worked out, sir."

Garrus reached out a hand to shake, as well. "As am I. Give them hell for me, Primarch."

"Sure wish you were coming with me, Vakarian." Victus glanced at Garrus's other hand resting on Shepard's shoulder. "But I can see what a formidable team the two of you make. The galaxy needs you doing just what you're doing. Commander, the turian hierarchy will stand with humanity against the Reapers—and we won't stop until the last one falls."

"Standing together is the only way that's going to happen. I'm glad you're with me."

"The rest of the races will come on board. It'll just take them a little time. Hard to give up thousands of years of anger, even in the face of a common enemy. May the spirits watch over us all." He nodded at them and stepped onto the shuttle.

Before they even reached the elevator, Shepard's comm link was buzzing, Traynor's anxious voice coming through. "Commander, urgent message for you in the communications center."

"I'm on my way." Shepard glanced at Garrus, shrugging. "No rest for the wicked."

"The guns needed calibrating, anyway."

She rolled her eyes and punched him in the arm.

He had just gotten a delicate coupling disassembled when the doors to the forward battery slid open and Shepard hurried in.

"Not right now," Garrus told her.

"Actually, I need your attention more than the guns do right at the moment. That was the salarian councilor."

Garrus held one of the parts up to the light, took a file, and began to shave a minute bump off the edge. "They still mad about the genophage?"

"Yes, but that's not why he was calling. It was about Udina—apparently the salarian councilor thinks something shady's going on. Something to do with money."

"Well, you've never trusted Udina." Garrus held the piece up to the light again, shaved off a bit more, and then replaced it, beginning to reassemble the coupling.

"No, and I don't like how he pushed Anderson out and took over the Councilor position … but in this crisis? Udina has been working as hard as anyone to keep the fleet funded and the refugee ships moving. Why would he start taking money now?"

"Maybe he isn't taking it. Maybe he's funneling it into other channels." Garrus turned to look at her.

She frowned. "You're thinking Cerberus?"

"I don't know what I'm thinking, except that Udina has never been subtle about his humans-first attitude."

"Still, seems like a big leap."

"We won't know until we check it out."

Shepard nodded. "I know. Joker's plotting a course for the Citadel now."

She turned to leave and Garrus called after her. "Zia?"

"Mm-hm?"

"Eat something. For me."

She gave him a wry smile. "Am I not enough woman for you, Vakarian?"

"Just want to make sure you keep up your energy."

Chuckling, she headed out. Hopefully she would stop in the kitchen, but Garrus didn't follow her. These guns needed to be finished before they found themselves in combat again.

When they reached Citadel space, both of them were in the cockpit, and Joker was managing not to complain about it too much. He was admittedly distracted by the lack of chatter. "There should be a dozen ships in sight, and more than that on the comms, arguing about who's in what position in line to get in." He fiddled with the radio controls. "Nothing." In a louder voice, he said, "Control, this is SSV _Normandy_. Are we cleared to descend?"

There was silence. He tried again, with the same result.

"This isn't right. Even if there were a total station malfunction, they'd have backups online." He punched a button on the console. "Switching to emergency channels." He listened intently to a voice on the comm and responded, "Hey, this is Joker. What's going on down there?" There was a pause, and then, "Oh, crap." Joker turned his head to look up at Shepard. "I have Thane on the line. You're going to want to hear this."

When Joker punched the button to transfer the call to the speakers, Thane was breathing heavily, no doubt as a result of his advancing Kepral's Syndrome. "Shepard. The Citadel is under attack. By Cerberus."

Garrus grunted, and Shepard glanced at him, acknowledging the confirmation of his suspicions.

"They're in control of the docks," Thane added.

"Are you safe?"

"No. I had to evade the commandos at the hospital. I'm on my way to C-Sec headquarters."

"Cerberus has it?" Garrus asked. "Damn."

"Exactly. As long as they control it, they have the station."

"Be careful, Thane. We're on our way." The channel cut out, and Shepard looked down at Joker. "Get us as close as you can to C-Sec headquarters and we'll deploy in the shuttle."

"Yes, Commander."

"Come on, Garrus. We're taking the Citadel back."

"Just what I've always wanted to do."


	60. The Carnage at C-Sec

_Thank you for reading!_

* * *

When he was stationed with C-Sec, all Garrus had ever wanted was to get out of it. He had climbed aboard the _Normandy_ with a song in his heart and had never looked back.

So it surprised him how angry it made him to see the carnage at C-Sec headquarters. Cerberus had attacked fast and hard and from the inside, and the betrayal by people he had once counted on to have his back absolutely enraged Garrus.

Their old friend Commander Bailey had survived the initial attack. He was wounded, but he waved away Shepard's attempts to see how badly, saying it was nothing a little medi-gel couldn't cure. Garrus couldn't help but wonder how much medi-gel there was on the Citadel at the moment, given the numbers of wounded refugees pouring in every day. Bailey asked them to go in and retake C-Sec headquarters so that he could network together all the officers scattered over the Citadel, try to coordinate counter-attacks, and make a real stand against Cerberus.

"My pleasure," Garrus growled.

"Sticks in your craw, doesn't it?" Bailey looked ten years older than the last time Garrus had seen him. "You train with these guys, you fight with 'em, you eat with 'em … and all the time they're waiting for their chance to attack."

"The Reapers have this effect on every cycle," Javik remarked. "It is easier to defeat your opponents if they have lost heart from frequent betrayals by their own people."

"Not in this cycle, we won't," Shepard said, popping another heat sink into her gun. "Let's go make that point."

Bailey keyed in his access code and stood back while Shepard and her team went in, securing the main office. He limped in and settled himself behind a terminal, tapping away at the keys.

Garrus asked, "Do you know if the councilors are still alive? I imagine they'd be a prime target."

"Last I heard, they split up. Let me take a look here." He squinted at the screen. "Hello."

"What have you got?" Shepard peered over his shoulder.

"This is from Councilor Valern. He's supposed to be here, meeting with the executor."

"Valern's the one who called me," Shepard said. "He was warning me, something about Udina."

"That would fit—meeting with the executor usually means someone high up is about to get the chop. I'm guessing this someone had Cerberus friends." Bailey read from the report on his screen. "'Be on guard—the likelihood of betrayal from within is high.' Well, he got that right."

"How does Udina have this kind of pull?" Garrus asked.

"I think only the councilor could tell you that one."

"Let's go get him, then." Shepard looked at Garrus. "You know where we're going?"

"If the executor hasn't changed offices, I do."

"He hasn't." Bailey tapped on his omni-tool. "We should be able to communicate with these now. Good luck, Shepard."

She nodded at him. "Stay safe. We need you."

"Don't worry about me, I know when to duck." He winced and gingerly touched the wound at his side. "Most of the time."

Shepard's team moved out, making their way slowly through the warren of offices. Garrus was surprised how easily the layout came back to him. He remembered often being confused by it even when he worked here every day, but now he was certain, every turn decisive.

The door to the executor's office was half-open, unable to close due to two Cerberus bodies stuck in it, which gave Garrus hope they would find survivors within … but no such luck. The executor was down, and two salarians.

"Bodyguards," Shepard said tersely after looking them over. Then, over her omni-tool, she added, "Bailey, they got the executor and the bodyguards, but there's no sign of the councilor. You don't think they might have taken him, do they?"

"Cerberus take prisoners? Not usually. Keep searching—the salarian councilor's a wily one."

Garrus moved to the window that looked out onto the offices below, trying to gather himself together after all the familiar faces he had seen today—most of them past all help. He hadn't been aware that he still knew so many people in C-Sec. Shepard followed him, one hand on his arm, but before she could speak, they both saw a chair move and a form emerge from under one of the desks in the room below. The salarian councilor!

Shepard lifted her omni-tool, saying softly into it, "Found him. He looks unharmed."

"Get him somewhere safe!" was Bailey's reply.

Then, a man in black, moving lightly, dropped from the ceiling in front of the councilor, who immediately put his hands up. Shepard was on the move at the same time, shooting through the glass and leaping through the window, landing easily and pointing her gun at the man in black.

"Shepard?" the councilor asked.

"Yes. I'm here."

"Udina's going to kill us all. He's staging a coup. He has the other councilors and is going to hand them over to Cerberus."

"Not if I have anything to say about it." Garrus and Javik had jumped down next to her now, and Shepard said to the man in black, "Three against one now. Time to give up."

"On the contrary. Time to have some fun," he replied.

Garrus hated the type of person who thought other people's pain was fun. He lifted his gun, sighting down the scope—and saw that another gun was leveled at the man in black's temple. Thane had made it, and was breathing easily, despite his exertions.

The two of them seemed to have similar skill sets, and it was a fairly even contest between them, despite Thane's illness. Shepard directed Javik to remove the councilor out of harm's way while she and Garrus tried to find an opening to kill the man in black without harming Thane. But the two men were moving so fast it was impossible to get a clean shot.

And then Thane made a miscalculation in movement, just enough, and the man in black ran him through with a sword.

"Thane!" Shepard cried out as the sword slid out of the drell's body and he hit the floor. But the man in black was on the move, and she had to follow. Garrus knelt by their former companion, who gently but firmly pushed his hands away and got to his feet, limping to the door. Garrus hurried past him, only to discover that the man in black had already gotten away.

Unable to stand any longer, Thane slid down the doorjamb to the floor. Shepard ran to him. "How bad is it?"

"I have time," he assured her. "Go after him. Save the Council and the Citadel."

Bailey's voice came through Shepard's omni-tool. "What's going on up there?"

"Thane's been hurt. He needs medical attention. We're going after the Council. Get the word out—Udina's trying to seize power. He isn't to be trusted." Switching off her omni-tool, she looked at Garrus, and at Javik who had just returned from escorting the salarian councilor to the relative safety of Bailey's position. "I never trusted Udina, but I didn't think even he would go this far."

She led them to a line of shuttles parked nearby. When she would have gotten behind the wheel, Garrus pushed her aside. "I'll drive. I know this place better than you do—and have a better chance of getting us there in one piece."

"Just get us there fast."

"Oh, I will. I have a few things to say to Udina. I'm hoping to let my fists do the talking."


	61. To Pick a Side

_Thank you for reading!_

* * *

After a ride on top of an elevator while Cerberus troops and the man in black tried to catch them on other elevators, the kind of unbelievable circumstance Garrus had scoffed at in vids, they reached the Council—and someone they had forgotten to factor in, and in fact had entirely lost track of: the other human Spectre. Kaidan was with the Councilors, shepherding them off their elevator toward a docking bay where they would be able to get on a shuttle.

Kaidan whirled around, gun leveled, when he heard the elevator doors ding open again and Shepard and her team emerged. "Shepard?"

Immediately Shepard, Garrus, and Javik pulled their own weapons. Shepard was carefully aiming just over Kaidan's shoulder, in the direction of Udina, Garrus noticed. He kept his own sights square on Kaidan's heart, knowing that Shepard wouldn't be able to take that shot if it was required. And if Kaidan shot at Shepard, it would be the last thing he ever did.

"She's with Cerberus," Udina growled. "Don't let her come near us. She's behind this coup."

The gun barrel wavered as Kaidan glanced back at the human councilor.

"Kaidan, you know me," Shepard said.

"I knew you," he corrected. He cleared his throat, clearly unsure where to fall.

"You've led them into a trap. Cerberus troops are right behind me—they'll be the next people off that elevator. We need to get out of here!"

Kaidan frowned. "Our transport was blown up."

"Shepard did that!" Udina repeated.

"I can't be everywhere," she said tartly. "That wasn't me."

"Udina, calm down. I got this. Let me … let me think." But Kaidan's aim at Shepard didn't waver.

"Let me explain, Kaidan."

"Come on, Shepard—gun drawn on a councilor? What's to explain? It looks bad."

"It does until you know that the salarian councilor called me to the Citadel to tell me about Udina's improprieties with money, and the next thing I know Cerberus has attacked the Citadel and an attempt has been made on Valern's life."

"Valern is dead," Udina said confidently.

"The executor is dead, and half of C-Sec," Garrus told him, angry all over again at the waste of life. "The councilor is still alive. He confirmed that you're behind this."

That rocked Udina back. He had evidently been counting on Cerberus to clean up his mess. "No! That can't be. Alenko, they're—they're lying to you!"

"Why would we?" Shepard lowered her weapon and stood straight, out of her combat stance. She gestured to Garrus and Javik to lower their weapons as well, which they did, although neither of them wanted to. "Look, we don't have time to negotiate. You've all been lied to by this man."

The asari councilor, who didn't love humans in general and had never much liked Udina in specific, glanced at him with hard, suspicious eyes—but the same expression was in her eyes when she looked back at Shepard, so no help there. The turian councilor looked over Shepard's head to Garrus, who nodded slowly. The turian councilor nodded back, just slightly, and shifted a bit so he was no longer in front of Udina and had a better chance to grab him if necessary.

"You have no proof! You never do," Udina said with disgust. To Garrus, it seemed clear that he believed his own lies; he really did think Shepard was the evil behind the Reapers' arrival and everything else that had happened.

The asari and turian councilors exchanged a look. "We've mistrusted Shepard before," the asari councilor pointed out. "It's never gone well."

Udina snapped, "We don't have time to debate this! We're dead if we stay out here." He moved toward the elevators, and Javik raised his weapon.

In between Commander and Councilor, Kaidan finally made a decision. "I better not regret this." Lowering his gun, he turned toward Udina. "Councilor, I think you'd better come with me."

"To hell with this!" Udina reached for the asari councilor, pulling her in front of him so she stood between him and anyone who might want to shoot him. The turian councilor moved to help her, and Udina pulled a gun, jamming it into the asari councilor's ribs.

Next to him, Garrus heard rather than saw Javik preparing to fire. Very quietly, so no one else—particularly Shepard—could hear him, he spoke the Prothean's name and shook his head. Javik looked from Garrus to the situation between the three humans, and he eased back, weapon still ready but waiting to fire until it became necessary.

Garrus had a hand on his sidearm, ready to aim and fire if Udina made the first move toward Shepard—but as long as it was the asari councilor, Shepard wouldn't thank him for getting involved in something that would have to be spun for the human population to understand, and Kaidan needed to pick a side once and for all.

"Let me by, Alenko," Udina demanded.

"No, sir. Put the gun down."

Udina moved, just slightly, and before Shepard could get her weapon readied Kaidan had raised his and shot the human councilor between the eyes. He'd been practicing, Garrus thought. The old Kaidan couldn't have made that shot, especially not under these circumstances.

The asari councilor fainted, and the turian councilor reached to help her up, supporting her with an arm around her waist.

Kaidan stood over Udina's body, his face twisted.

Shepard called his name.

He paused for a moment, then turned to her. "Yeah, I'm good."

"You did what you had to do. You—" She stopped when her omni-tool crackled to life. Bailey's voice came over it.

"Shepard, I don't know what you did, but the Cerberus troops have all beat feet into the keeper tunnels—including your friend in the fancy black outfit. Smoke and mirrors, that one. Released a VI into the system that erased footage of him wherever he went."

"He likes to fight; he'll show up again."

"Yeah, well, pardon me if I don't find that reassuring. Shepard. Your … drell friend is in for surgery at Huerta Memorial. You should get down there." There was pain in his voice. Bailey had taken Thane's son under his wing, and had become close to both of them.

"Soon as I can, Bailey. And thank you."

"Thank you, Commander."

As Shepard signed off from the omni-tool, the turian councilor approached her with his hand out. "This makes twice you've saved my life, Commander. I owe you both a personal debt and one on behalf of Palaven."

"Times like this, Councilor, we all stand together. All you owe me is what you owe the rest of the galaxy—your support in times of need and your friendship in times of prosperity."

"I can do that. Do you— I'm sorry to ask, but you may have insight. Do you know what the Illusive Man would be after in attacking the Citadel?"

"No, sir, I'm sorry. I don't. But I'm going to find out," she added grimly. "If you can excuse me, I have a friend in the hospital. He was wounded saving the salarian councilor, and it may—it looks like it's going to cost him his life."

"Understood, Commander." The turian councilor looked at Kaidan. "Major Alenko can escort us down to C-Sec."

"Of course, Councilor."

Shepard looked up at Garrus. "Let's go see Thane."

He nodded. As they got into the elevator, Garrus looked back at Kaidan, wondering how today's events were going to play out. For his part, he was just glad he hadn't had to shoot his friend.


	62. Thane

_Thank you for reading!_

* * *

Bailey was waiting for them when they arrived at Huerta Memorial. He had been patched up and was arguing with his doctor about getting back to work. "Shepard. You want to weigh in here?"

Zia looked at the doctor, who shook his head at her. Considering the options, she said at last, "Bailey, back to work. You'll drive yourself and everyone else crazy otherwise. Check in with your doctor if you feel the faintest twinge."

"Yes, Commander." He saluted her and the doctor. As the doctor rushed off to attend less stubborn patients, Bailey leaned toward Shepard. "Thane's in the room just down the hall. They won't let me in, but I imagine they'll make an exception for you. His son Kolyat's here. He's in with him now."

"That's a relief," Garrus said. "After all they've been through, that they can be together now? A lot of fathers and sons—" He broke off at the naked pain on Bailey's face, wishing he'd kept his big mouth shut.

Clearing his throat, Bailey added, "If it seems … right, tell him the salarian councilor says he's a hero. Just to … he might like to know."

"I'll tell him."

She and Garrus moved toward Thane's room. Javik had gone back to the _Normandy_ , unhappy that his first view of the Citadel had been when it was under attack, muttering something about it being too much like his cycle.

There was a harried nurse just coming out of Thane's room as they approached. "May we see him?" Shepard asked.

"No, he's … Wait. Are you Commander Shepard? He's asking for you." He hesitated. "We're going to miss him."

Garrus drew his breath in sharply. He had known—seeing the wound, there had been little chance of a good outcome—but to have it confirmed was something else. "This is the end, then?"

The nurse nodded. "I'm sorry, I have to—"

"It's all right. Let us know if we can help."

Shepard and Garrus looked at each other, then approached the door, which slid open for them. The younger drell, Kolyat, was sitting by his father's bedside, head in his hands. He jumped up when they came in. "Thank you for coming. I think—I think he's been waiting for you."

On the bed, Thane stirred. "Shepard? Garrus?" The words came with difficulty.

Shepard went to him, putting a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Don't try to talk. I just came to say thank you for all the times you had my back."

"And all the times you let me take the shot," Garrus added.

"If people knew how many lives you had saved, they would be lining up outside to thank you personally. The salarian Councilor says you're a hero."

Thane gave a weak smile. "Those are … not … words I ever thought … would … apply to … me."

"That assassin should be embarrassed," Garrus said. "Here you are, terminally ill, and you still kept him from reaching his target. I've never seen anything so impressive."

If possible, Thane's chuckle was even weaker than his smile had been. "There is … there is … something … I must do … before …"

Kolyat's voice, young and strong, broke in, and Thane relaxed in relief and what looked like surprise. "Kalahira, mistress of inscrutable depths. Kalahira, whose waves wear down stone and sand, this, your servant, asks forgiveness. Kalahira, wash the sins from this one and set hm on the distant shore of the infinite spirit."

Thane reached a hand toward his son. "You … the priests …"

"Yes, Father. I have been studying the old ways." He looked at Shepard and Garrus. "I brought a prayer book. Would you mind joining me?"

"Of course."

Garrus wondered what the spirits would say to him praying to the drell gods. Of couse, given that he never spent much time thinking about his own religion, maybe the spirits would just be glad he was praying to someone. It occurred to him that he didn't even know what Shepard's beliefs were. He should probably ask her sometime. Then again, if it was important to her, it probably would have come up before.

They took the book Kolyat handed them, Garrus reading over Shepard's shoulder. "Kalahira, this one's heart is pure, but beset by wickedness and contention. Guide this one to where the traveler never tires, the lover never leaves, the hungry never starve. Guide this one, Kalahira, and she will be a companion to you as she was to me."

On the bed, Thane blinked once, then twice, then his eyes closed and didn't open again. Garrus thought he should mourn, but his friend had gone in peace, with his son near him, with friends, with the knowledge that his life had been lost doing something. Thane wouldn't have asked for more than that. Garrus hoped when it was his time to go, he could say the same.

Shepard looked at the still figure on the bed, then at Kolyat. "Why did it say 'she'?"

"Because his last prayer was for you, Commander. For your protection."

"I see." There were tears trembling unshed on Shepard's eyelashes, and she impatiently blinked them away. There would be time for that later. "Thane's was one of the most generous spirits I have ever known. You have a great deal to be proud of, Kolyat."

"Thank you. For … bringing him back from his battle sleep." Kolyat nodded gravely. "I will take care of him from here … and then I will assist Commander Bailey in putting the Citadel to rights. May Amonkira guide your feet, Commander."

Shepard shook Kolyat's hand, and she and Garrus gave a last look at Thane, at peace at last, and left the room.

"Do you think he's with his wife now?" Garrus asked her.

"I do." She smiled. "I hope they have an eternity of happiness."

Garrus reached for her hand, comforted by her certainty.


	63. Once and For All

_Thank you for reading!_

* * *

As they were preparing to return to the _Normandy,_ Shepard was called up to a debriefing with the council, and told Garrus not to wait for her, so he headed for the elevators back up to _Normandy_ 's docking bay on his own. On the way up, the elevator stopped and who should get on but Kaidan Alenko—with his Alliance-issued duffel bag slung over his shoulder.

"Going somewhere?" Garrus asked him warily.

"Shepard didn't tell you?"

The conclusion Garrus had been trying not to jump to was now staring him in the face: Shepard had invited Kaidan back to the _Normandy._ "Oh. No, must have slipped her mind. It's been a busy day."

"I'll say."

"They don't need you on your own, flying around doing Spectre things?"

Kaidan looked at him searchingly, as if trying to determine if that was Garrus subtly telling him he didn't want him on the ship. "Honestly? I think they can't afford to outfit another Spectre ship. Between the strikes on human holdings and Udina's embezzlement, the Alliance isn't exactly solvent right now."

"You sure you shouldn't stay on the Citadel and help get things straightened out?"

"Nobody wants me trying to run the Alliance, least of all me." Kaidan shook his head. "I donate most of my pay because I'm terrible at managing money." He cleared his throat, looking down at his boots. "I don't know what I'll do if I ever have to retire."

"You almost didn't have to," Garrus pointed out. "If anyone's trigger finger had twitched—"

Kaidan reached out and hit the emergency button, the elevator sliding to a stop. A computerized voice issued instructions on what to do if your elevator was stuck between floors, but both men ignored it.

"All right, Garrus, let's have this out before we get on the ship and have to be crewmates again. You obviously don't want me aboard. What's that about? I thought we were okay again."

"That was before you leveled a weapon at the woman I love."

The words hung between them. Garrus had never used that word to describe Zia to anyone but her before, and he could see that Kaidan hadn't expected him to do so now.

"You have to admit, the situation was a little tense."

"You have to admit you don't trust her. You still have that whole Cerberus bug up your butt, much as you might want to pretend you don't. So why are you coming back on board her ship, under her command? And for that matter, having two Spectres on the same mission rarely goes well. Are we going to have a hierarchy issue?"

"No. We're not," Kaidan said decisively. "Shepard is—Shepard is more than a Spectre. She's the best hope this galaxy has of surviving the Reapers, always has been. She's in command."

"And the next time we go up against Cerberus? Do I have to worry that you watching her back is going to end up with you shooting her in it the first time you get nervous about her loyalties?" Garrus took a step across the elevator, using his height advantage to force Kaidan to look up at him. "Because if you ever point a gun at her again, you'll have my bullet between your eyes. She could never have shot you, but I could do it without so much as a feather's weight on my conscience." He wasn't sure the truth went quite that far, but he didn't need Kaidan to know that.

To his credit, Kaidan didn't back down, and he didn't bluster or get defensive. "Understood."

"Is it?"

"Yes. Look, Garrus, when … all that went down, with Udina, and I had to shoot him—well, that was my decision, right then, that once and for all I was trusting Shepard. End of story. And she trusted me not to shoot her."

"She's a better person than I am." Garrus hit the button to get the elevator moving again. "Glad we had this little chat, Kaidan."

"I love to be threatened by my friends." A faint smile said the comment was a peace offering.

Garrus chuckled. "You need better friends."

"When the galaxy doesn't end, maybe I'll look into it. Hey, I heard a rumor—is there a living Prothean on the _Normandy_?"

"Maybe."

"It's always so hard to tell. I've heard everything from the _Normandy_ being secretly a Reaper-built vessel to Shepard being the second coming of the goddess Athame."

"That's a new one. She's not even an asari."

Kaidan shrugged. "I guess that doesn't matter. Oh, and then there's the one where she's secretly the Shadow Broker."

Garrus laughed. "Close, but not quite."

"Close?"

"Wait till we get on board." More seriously, Garrus looked his friend over. Kaidan looked wearied, dark circles under his eyes. "It going to sit okay with you, the way things went down with Udina?"

"I … guess?"

"You didn't have a choice. He was in too deep to surrender."

"I know. But thanks for saying so." Kaidan reached out his free hand, and they shook. "This is my promise that I have your back, and Shepard's, and that of every other crew member of the _Normandy_."

"Thanks. I appreciate it. And I have yours. That's a promise." Suddenly a crew member Kaidan might have some trouble backing up came to mind. "Has anyone told you about EDI?"

The doors of the elevator slid open at their docking bay, and the two of them stepped out, moving toward the ship.

"What about her?"

"She took over the robot body who attacked you on Mars."

Kaidan stopped walking. "Seriously? No wonder the rumors about the _Normandy_ are so crazy—they're just trying to keep up with the reality. So … the ship's inside a robot?"

"More or less. She's … something else, all right. You going to be okay seeing that body as a crew member?"

"Whew. Yeah, eventually. Thanks for the heads up." He grinned suddenly. "Joker must be over the moon."

"You could say that. Oh, also—there's a reporter on board."

"On the _Normandy_? Shepard let a civilian on board? No way."

Garrus nodded. "The reporter, Allers, convinced her we could bump up support for the war that way. It seems to be working all right, but … she asks a lot of questions. She'll probably want to interview you."

Kaidan gave an exaggerated shudder. "I don't know what's worse—the ship wearing the body of the robot who tried to kill me, or a reporter."

"I'm told she's cute."

"You don't think so?"

Garrus shrugged. "I'm biased—I compare everyone to Shepard."

If Kaidan did, too, he wisely kept that to himself.

The airlock doors opened, and Garrus stood back to let Kaidan through first. "Welcome back to the _Normandy_ , Major."


	64. You Are Here

_Thank you for reading!_

* * *

Garrus was standing by the fish tank, watching as they darted back and forth. They seemed busy, as if they thought their little fishy errands were important. Maybe, to them, they were. As important as the _Normandy_. It was a sobering thought, making him feel uncomfortable about his place in the chain of life.

The door slid open and Shepard came in. She smiled to see him standing there. "When you weren't calibrating, I thought I might find you here. Brooding."

"I'm not brooding."

"Don't worry, big guy, it's a good look for you." She gave him a sidelong glance as she went to her personal terminal. "To a limited degree."

"Still not brooding."

"Yeah? Then what's on your mind?"

"Our place in the universe."

"Shall I get you a map that has a small dot and an arrow pointing to it, saying 'you are here'?"

Garrus sighed. "You know what I mean."

"I … suppose? What's brought this on?"

He wasn't even certain himself. He only knew that he had felt increasingly unsettled since the attack on the Citadel. The presence of Kaidan Alenko on board was something new to adjust to, hard as Garrus might try to forget what had been between Kaidan and Shepard once upon a time. And they had just dropped off a team of ex-Cerberus scientists that they had rescued from Gellix at the Crucible research station.

"Just … there were a lot of people on board."

Shepard chuckled, leaning back in the chair and loosening her jacket. "There were, indeed. I admit I like my ship a bit more peaceful than that. Still, what a great asset to have on our side."

"Jacob seemed like cock of the walk, didn't he?" Jacob Taylor had been half-leading, half-protecting the scientists and their families; it had been the first time they'd seen him since the mission through the Omega 4.

"Yes, he did. Probably good for him." Shepard stretched, arching her back. "He needed some responsibility. Maybe he needed his relationship with Dr. Cole, too, to give him something human to care about."

"Do you ever think about that?" The question rushed out of him before he even knew he was thinking it.

"About what?"

"Having something—someone—human to care about."

Shepard's eyebrows flew up. "This again? Garrus."

"No, but …" He didn't know how to explain it. "Shepard, I can't … I can't give you children, and my food makes you sick, and—"

She got up and came toward him. "I can't give you children, either, and my food makes you sick, too, and you don't see me worrying all the time about whether you want to run off with some turian woman." Shepard paused, frowning up at him. "You don't, do you?"

"Not a chance."

"Well, then, why do you think I do?"

"You're Commander Shepard," he said simply. "Is there anyone in the galaxy who would be good enough for you?"

She smiled at that. "There is, actually."

"I know. The _Normandy_."

"I'm not about to run off with EDI, Garrus. Besides, Joker would kill me if I tried."

"Not EDI—the _Normandy_. Jacob said— He said you were in love with the _Normandy_."

Shepard barked an irritated laugh. "And you took that to heart? These fish know me better than Jacob Taylor does."

It was hard to explain. The way Jacob had glanced at him as though he didn't matter, had dismissed Shepard's update on their relationship status as uninteresting … Garrus had felt like—an alien. The way Jacob no doubt thought of him. He stammered through half an explanation, stopped by Shepard's small hand closing on his fingers.

"Jacob joined Cerberus in the first place for a reason, Garrus. He's human-centric. Always has been, probably always will be. And let's not forget that there are turians out there who would think the same about me, Vakarian, sir. There will always be people who frown on cross-species relationships." She squeezed his fingers harder and stood up on her tiptoes, her free hand slipping around the back of his neck. "Let them. As long as I have you, I don't care what anyone thinks."

Garrus kissed her. "I don't deserve you."

"Debatable. You do brood a lot, that's true, and it gets a little tiresome sometimes … but you do a hell of a good job calibrating my guns." She chuckled soft and low in the back of her throat.

"Is that a euphemism?"

She stepped back, shrugging her jacket off and letting it drop to the floor. "Maybe. You see anything that needs calibrating?"

He shook his head, clearing his throat as she continued stripping off her clothes. "It all looks pretty perfect to me."

Shepard smiled, her brown eyes warm. "I bet you wouldn't have said that about my weird, squishy human body when you first came on board."

She was right, he probably wouldn't have. It was hard to remember what it had been like not to love her, need her, desire her—especially with her lying naked in bed waiting for him.

"What's it going to be, big guy?"

Hastily, he stripped off his own clothes and joined her on the bed, kissing her long and hard.

When the kiss broke, Shepard took his head in her hands and looked up into his eyes. "You didn't let me finish before, when you asked if anyone in the galaxy was good enough for me. There is someone, and he's perfect for me, and I am the luckiest being in all of outer space, Garrus Vakarian. So don't make me remind you again."

In answer, he kissed her again, and again, and again. She was wrong—he was the luckiest being in outer space, and he intended from here on out to enjoy every minute of it and stop wasting time by worrying.


	65. More Alike than They Knew

_Thank you for reading!_

* * *

Garrus was on his way up to what he was increasingly thinking of as 'their' quarters when he heard a voice calling to him.

"Hey, Scars, hold the elevator!"

He did so, looking at Vega inquiringly as he stepped into the elevator. "Going up?"

To his surprise, the big soldier flushed a deep red at the question. He cleared his throat. "Uh … just wanted a chance to talk to the Commander."

"Well, I think she's still having a debrief with Hackett, but you can wait with me if you want. If you think you can handle it," he added.

"Oh, I can handle it," Vega retorted, his skin resuming its natural color. Garrus wondered what it was he wanted to talk to Shepard about that made him so uncomfortable. "I can handle anything," he went on. "I ever tell you about the time I won a wrestling match with a hanar? Slippery thing, kept quoting the Enkindlers at me."

Garrus groaned as the elevator came to a stop. "We really doing this?"

"What, Vakarian, you chicken?"

"I don't even know what that is … except that apparently everything in the galaxy tastes like it." Garrus keyed in the code and the door slid open. "You want something? I think we have …" He surveyed the small refrigerator. "Beer?"

"Beer," Vega agreed. "You don't know what you're missing. My abuela's _arroz con pollo_?" He shook his head with a groan of appreciation. "To die for."

"Personally, I like to not die from my food, but … to each their own." Garrus took out a bottle of fermented jholime juice and popped the cap from it. "If you're suggesting I'm scared—of you, of all things—then … game on, Vega."

"Oh, please, age before wisdom."

"Difficult to have the second without the first," Garrus noted mildly. "But, okay. So back in my C-Sec days, I busted a batarian spy ring that was trying to assassinate a councilor."

"Please." Vega took a swallow of his beer. "I fought off a dozen angry batarians on Omega single-handedly. Used one of 'em as a landing pad off a three-story jump."

"Just warming up, seeing what you had. So then there was the time I tracked down this guy, Saren, stopped him from raising a geth army and unleashing the Reapers three years ago."

Vega glared at him. "That doesn't count. You did that with Shepard."

"You're right. I was with Shepard—from the very beginning," Garrus reminded him smugly.

"Pfft. That just means you're old."

"Does that mean I'm old, too, James?" They both spluttered their drinks, looking up to see Zia Shepard standing there, leaning one hip against the fish tank, watching them with that little smile on her face that always made Garrus tingle.

"Uh, no, ma'am, I mean, uh …"

She laughed at Vega's discomfort, reaching into the refrigerator for another bottle of beer. "Am I interrupting something?"

"Don't mind us," Garrus said. "Just telling James here what it means to be a real soldier."

"Oh, yes? This should be fascinating. Don't stop on my account." She sank down on the couch next to Garrus, propping her feet up on the table, and looked at them both expectantly.

"Wouldn't dream of it."

Vega had regained some of his equilibrium, although he clearly wasn't quite sure how he came to be relaxing in the Commander's quarters drinking a beer and swapping tall tales. "I can do this all day. What about you, Scars?"

"Just getting warmed up. Funny you should mention the scars. Ever hear the name Archangel?"

"I might've."

"You know you have. I'm Archangel." Saying the name with Shepard there next to him, looking up at him with a smile in her eyes, reminded him of the feeling that had swept over him when he first recognized her beautiful face through the scope, and he nudged her with his elbow affectionately.

"Maybe I heard something about that, too," Vega admitted.

"Then maybe you also heard that, for a couple of months there, the crime rate on Omega mysteriously dropped while Archangel did a little 'housecleaning'." Time was he couldn't have mentioned those days so casually, not without remembering Sidonis, and what he had done. He owed that healing to Shepard. He shifted a little closer to her.

Vega shrugged. "So you ran a cleaning service on Omega. Once back on Fehl Prime, I uncovered a pair of Harvesters. Had to kill them. By myself."

Garrus recognized that Fehl Prime was Vega's Omega, and the healing it had taken for him to be able to mention it so casually. That was Shepard, too. "Two wormnecks. That's almost impressive," he conceded.

"Oh, that's not the best part. They left behind an egg, and I trained it to let me fly it."

Shepard burst into laughter at that one, nearly spilling her beer in the process, and Garrus chuckled, as much at her as at Vega.

"The Alliance teach you to make up crap like that, or did you figure it out all by yourself?"

At the mention of the Alliance, Vega tensed up, apparently remembering whatever had brought him up there in the first place. "It's a gift," he muttered.

"That all you got?" Garrus asked, wondering if he was about to get to the point, but Vega shook his head.

"I got more, just … don't like to talk about it."

"Fair enough. We've all got one of those. Not every story has a happy ending."

Vega tipped the neck of his bottle in Garrus's direction. "Except there was this one time I teamed up with a turian named Garrus Vakarian. He was pretty good with a gun but he thought he was some kind of hotshot."

Garrus returned the salute. "Yeah, I knew this wise-ass marine named Jimmy Vega—sounds like a pole dancer on Omega. Always got on my nerves. But the kid was all right. Had guts when it counted."

"And together they cured the genophage."

Glancing at Shepard, who was smiling and shaking her head, clearly thinking they were some combination of ridiculous and amusing, Garrus added, "And stopped Cerberus from taking over the Citadel."

"And finally kicked the Reapers from this galaxy and into the next."

"With a little help from their friends." Garrus looked down at Zia.

"Nah, it was just us," Vega said, smiling shyly at Shepard.

"I think it was mostly me, boys," she told them.

"Maybe."

"You helped a little," Garrus conceded. He started to get to his feet. "But I think Mr. Vega here came up to talk to you about something important, not just to shoot the breeze with me."

"James, you need Garrus to go?"

Vega hesitated. "Nah, he can stay. It's just … I had some questions."

Shepard leaned forward now, going in that swift movement from relaxed friend to alert commander. Garrus always found it impressive how easily she shifted personas. "What kind of questions?"

"I wanted to get your opinion on something."

"Shoot."

"What'd you do when they asked you to join the N7 program? I mean, was it a no-brainer for you, or did you think about it before accepting?"

Zia blinked, clearly surprised by the question. "The N7 program is a big deal, but it's also a big commitment. I'd been gunning for it—hard to be raised on Alliance ships and not aim as high as you can—but when the offer was really in my hand … yeah, I gave it some thought."

"I hear that." Vega turned the beer bottle around in his hand.

"In the end, though, it's hard to turn down. You get the best equipment, the best assignments, the best training …"

"And they expect the best in return."

"Yeah, they do. Why are you asking?"

"Well …" Vega looked down at his hands, the blush stealing up over his cheeks again. "Even with all the shit that's going on, somebody, somewhere, managed to track me down and forward an N7 commendation. It's dated the same day the Reapers attacked Earth."

"Well deserved, I'm sure," Garrus put in.

"Thanks, Scars."

"You don't sound too thrilled."

"Yeah … aside from the fact that there won't even be an N7 program if we don't win this war, I just … Being a soldier's the only thing I've ever been really good at. And not 'cause I try. Hell, I'd've kicked my ass out years ago."

Spirits, did that sound familiar. Garrus had always found something about this kid relatable. Apparently they were more alike than they knew.

"Last time I had a command, I lost almost everyone, and they promoted me for it. I guess …" He swallowed hard. "I'm just not sure if I'm ready to lead again. I don't know if I want that responsibility."

Garrus remembered the brief version of Vega's story that Shepard had shared with him, the decision to save the intel over the colonists and the terrible toll that had taken on Vega's squad. Not unlike losing his whole team on Omega, he thought. And he certainly hadn't been in any shape to lead for a long time after that. He felt for the man in front of him, and the pain it was clear he still carried.

"Vega, like I said before, you can't blame yourself for being put in a tough situation," Shepard told him. "And if you were promoted, someone must have thought you handled it well."

"Sure, but—"

She leaned farther toward him, holding his gaze with her own. "If you'd saved everyone, would things have worked out better?"

"I … don't know. I don't think so."

"The right choice is usually not the easy one."

You could say that again, Garrus thought. Shepard had made the right choice so many times, despite the cost … He was sure she was thinking about the Alpha relay and the batarian colony, a choice he knew still weighed heavily on her.

"Did you know that before you joined the N7?" Vega asked her.

"Yeah. That's why I was asked. And it's why they asked you. They need people to lead who know how to act—and how to bear the consequences. There's not a single N7 that hasn't sacrificed, either themselves or their soldiers, at some point."

"So, you think I should accept."

Shepard got to her feet, looking down at Vega. "Assuming we survive this, it's a no-brainer. You're a damn good soldier, Vega, and you're too smart to waste this opportunity."

Vega stood, as well. He toward over her, much taller and broader than she was, but she still looked every inch the commander standing in front of him. "I'll think about it. Seriously. Thanks, Lola." He glanced past her at Garrus. "You, too, Scars."

"Anytime."

"You need to talk about this more, you know where to find me, James," Shepard told him.

"Will do. And … if you don't mind, maybe don't mention this to anyone else?"

"Not a word," she promised.

"Gracias." He tipped the empty beer bottle at them in salute and took his leave, the door sliding shut behind him.


	66. Families

_Thank you for reading!_

* * *

When Vega was gone, Shepard sank back on the couch with a sigh. "I don't remember ever being that young."

"Don't you? I do." Garrus vividly remembered his time in C-Sec, straining against the orders of his superiors, angry at the waste and the red tape. If he'd been offered promotion then, he'd have thought twice about taking it.

She looked up at him affectionately. "You're still that young."

"Hey! You're not that much older than I am."

"Some days I feel as old as the Reapers."

Garrus took his seat next to her and lifted her feet into his lap, beginning to massage them. "I can't blame you for that." He looked at her with curiosity. "What did your mother say when you were made N7?"

Shepard had leaned her head against the back of the couch and closed her eyes. She smiled without opening them. "'It's about time.'"

"And your father?"

"Nothing. I never had one."

"It was just you and your mother?"

"Always." She winced as he hit a particularly sore spot. "I never asked if I was accidental or planned, but either way I think she figured me and a career in the Alliance were all she could handle. Occasionally there were women who were around a lot for a while, but sooner or later they all disappeared. Selfish kid that I was, I was always glad they were gone because then I had her to myself. At least, when she had time."

"I get that."

"Did you see much of your father growing up?"

Garrus huffed a laugh. "Hardly. Only when he felt my sister or I needed reminding of our responsibilities as good turians."

"I'm guessing that was a lot."

"Not as often as you might think. He commuted back and forth between Palaven and the Citadel. Most of the day-to-day was handled by a series of nannies."

Shepard grimaced. "That sounds awful."

"Sometimes. Some of them weren't so bad. Although most of them liked Solana better than me. I guess she was cuter."

"Not possible."

"You didn't see her when she wanted something."

Opening her eyes, Shepard gave him a suggestive look. "I've seen you when you want something. You're hard to turn down."

"Really. I'll have to remember that."

She poked his leg with her toes. "You do just fine without abusing your power."

"I could do better."

"Could you?"

"Well … maybe not." He set her foot down. "You hear from your mother recently?"

Shepard sat up, shaking her head. "Not in a while. I got a garbled communication a while back that she had survived the initial Reaper attack, but nothing since. I'm assuming if something had happened I would have heard, but it's hard to tell with comms such a mess everywhere. How about you? Any updates from Palaven?"

"Plenty. None of them good. But no word from or about my father or my sister. And I've put out a lot of feelers. I'm … starting to get worried."

"Hey." Shepard put an arm around his waist, leaning into his side. "They're okay."

"How do you know that? Plenty of people's families aren't okay."

"I know that. But … I don't know, I have a feeling."

"How often do your feelings come true?"

She nudged him. "Pretty often."

Garrus rested his head against hers, the soft ends of her short hair tickling his mandible. "I wish I had your optimism."

"I fake it."

"I know."

"It's exhausting."

"I know that, too."

"Garrus?"

"Yeah?"

"I love you."

He closed his eyes, nuzzling her hair. "I love you, too."

"I can—whatever else happens, I can handle it as long as I have you."

"I'm not going anywhere."

"Good." She looked up at him. "What do you think your father will say about us?"

Garrus chuckled. "He thinks I'm a lost cause anyway. I suppose he'll just be glad I'm alive. Solana—I told Solana about you when Earth was hit. She … wished she could have met you."

She took his hand, squeezing it tightly. "I'll meet her someday. I look forward to it."

"And your mother? How will she react to your turian boyfriend?"

Shepard shrugged. "Hard to say. She was always more interested in my career than my social life. I can't really go much higher than Spectre unless I want to go into politics—which I don't, and which she wouldn't see as a step up anyway—so I think she'll figure I can do what I want."

"So I'm an afterthought."

"Not at all. You're the bow on top. The icing on the cake."

"I knew it all along—you only like me for my looks."

"It's the scars. You know they make me crazy."

"Do they? I seem to have forgotten."

Shepard straddled his lap. "Well, then, let me remind you."


	67. The Only Way

_Thank you for reading!_

* * *

Bryson's lab had a bit of an … odor, now, having been abandoned for so long. Remembering his brief glimpse of it when Bryson had been working in it made Garrus feel its emptiness now more thoroughly. He could only imagine how Ann Bryson must be reacting, here amidst her father's things. She must be feeling his presence, Garrus imagined.

She was making an effort to hold herself together, though, as she moved from station to station, deep in thought. Shepard was hoping to find the location of Leviathan from clues within the Brysons' research, and Ann was gamely trying to help despite the depth of her grief.

Garrus didn't miss the way James Vega's eyes followed every step Ann took, or the glances she gave him occasionally, as if seeking reassurance. The grieving scientist had brought out Vega's softer side on the course of their journey to the Citadel, and she seemed to find comfort in his presence. He had all but taken over the galley to cook for her, dishes that sounded made up to Garrus but which James assured him had been his abuela's specialties. 'Abuela' appeared to mean grandmother. Garrus remembered his own grandmothers only vaguely. Neither had been particularly interested in a small boy, and certainly neither one had ever bothered making him special dishes. Although it appeared that James had been partially raised by his grandmother, so perhaps that was why they had been closer.

Still, Garrus was glad to see Ann Bryson had found someone she could trust, in a world that must seem to her to have gone upside down.

She and Shepard were studying a display of information on the rachni. "How can the rachni help us understand Leviathan?" Shepard was asking. "Are they that old?"

"They date back farther than the Protheans," Ann told her. "The Protheans tried to breed them as weapons of war, but lost control of them. How far back they go beyond that is hard to say—we know so little of pre-Prothean history, thanks to the Reapers. Perhaps there's a connection to Leviathan, it's hard to say for sure. But more directly, the rachni speak telepathically—"

"Through song," Shepard interrupted.

"Yes, exactly. How do you know that?"

Shepard cleared her throat. "It's a … good guess."

Garrus had wondered if she would reveal her experience with the last rachni queen, but apparently she was keeping that a secret for now. James opened his mouth to add detail, but Garrus shook his head warningly, and James subsided reluctantly. There was a time and a place for war stories, but this wasn't it. They had no way of knowing how much connection Ann Bryson had to Leviathan, and it was well worth keeping the rachni queen as their ace in the hole in case they needed one.

"It's not quite as simple as that, though," Ann continued. "It's really more of an organic quantum entanglement communicator, which is similar to what Leviathan does with these artifacts, using them to establish a connection with anyone near the artifact and then using that connection to control their mind." She stopped in front of the shielded artifact. "And that's how we'll find him now."

"What do you mean?" James asked. He pushed off the table he'd been leaning against.

Ann glanced at him, then looked back at Shepard, her gaze steady and determined, her meaning clear. She intended to use the connection already established between herself and Leviathan to track his signal.

"EDI?"

The robot tapped some keys on the galactic map displayed in the center of the room. "Yes, I think this can work. If Dr. Bryson is willing to take the risk."

James stepped between Ann and the artifact. "No. Let me do it."

But Ann shook her head. "I'm the only one it has an established connection with. If this is going to work—and it has to, if we want to find Leviathan before the Reapers do—it has to be me." She smiled at James. "But thank you."

"I have locked in the energy signature we're looking for. Whenever you're ready, Dr. Bryson," EDI said.

Shepard looked at Ann with concern. "You don't have to do this. We can find another way."

"No. This is the only way."

James took up a position just behind Ann, one hand on her shoulder. "I'm gonna be right here."

She put her hand over his, briefly. "Thank you."

Garrus felt like a bit of a fifth wheel here, but whatever was about to go down, he wanted to see it for himself. This Leviathan was a creature few in the galaxy dreamed existed—and if found, could be a powerful weapon against the Reapers. And spirits knew they needed one.

"James, drop the containment shield."

At Shepard's command, he tapped his closed fist against a button, and the shield dropped. Garrus felt a sudden concern that the rest of them were now being exposed to an uncontained artifact—but they already had been, more than once, and Leviathan had thus far not found any of them to be of particular interest.

"Artifact online," EDI said.

They all watched Ann closely.

She shook her head. "Nothing yet. Wait … I feel a chill—" Then she started to shake violently. James held her in her seat, but only with both hands firmly on her shoulders.

"Holy hell. Commander!"

"Hold on, James. EDI?"

"Signal is tracking. Maintain connection."

"Hang in there, Ann." Shepard watched tensely as the scientist's body shook.

Then Ann's head snapped up, her eyes focusing on Shepard's face. "Turn back. The darkness cannot be breached."

Shepard leaned down, speaking intensely. "Listen to me. I found you. And the Reapers are right behind me."

"You have brought them. You are a threat."

"I'm trying to keep ahead of them. They would have found you anyway. I've seen what you can do—we need you. The entire galaxy needs you."

"There is no war. There is only the harvest."

"It doesn't have to be that way!"

Garrus had seen Shepard argue with people whose ideas focused on a single thought before, but he had rarely seen her this agitated. Either Leviathan or the war itself must be getting to her, he thought.

"EDI, do we have enough?" James asked hoarsely.

"Partial lock. Maintain connection to narrow the search."

"You heard her," James said desperately to Shepard. "We got enough. Let me hit the shield."

Shepard looked into Ann's blank eyes, trying to connect with Leviathan, one more time, then sighed, stepping back. "Do it, James."

He punched the button, and Ann fell forward into Shepard's arms.

"Dios!" James came to them, taking Ann gently from Shepard. He kept an arm around her waist to hold her up. "I'm taking her to Dr. Michel."

"Ann. Ann, are you all right?" Shepard asked.

The scientist nodded wearily, but Garrus noticed she made no attempt to get James to let her go. "I … think so. Did we—did we get anything?"

"Yes, but it will take time to search. Coordinates have been sent to the _Normandy_ ," EDI replied.

"You can rest now, Ann. We'll take it from here."

"My father … would have liked to be here."

"Maybe he was," Shepard said.

Ann gave a weak smile and allowed James to lead her away.

"You think this Leviathan will help?" Garrus asked.

"It has to." Shepard's face was distressed—something about her face-off with Leviathan through Ann Bryson had unsettled her. "It has to," she repeated, but even she didn't seem to believe it.


	68. How Things Are Going

_Thank you for reading!_

* * *

Shepard had hurried off to work her way through a long list of people to see and things to accomplish while they were on the Citadel, so Garrus took the opportunity to go check in on the turian refugees.

He found the ward teeming with people of all kinds. There was a hush over the room, as though having made it this far, no one had the energy to complain or talk or laugh. But it was an orderly weariness—clearly someone competent was in overall charge of the entire operation. And it didn't take him long to find the turian behind it all.

"Nidario Tactus. I should have known."

Tactus looked up from the clipboard he was studying. "Garrus Vakarian! What are you doing on the Citadel?"

"Just a stop-off."

"So, not a refugee, then."

"No, still on the _Normandy_ ; just checking in to see how things are going." Garrus looked around him at the well-organized medical crates and the crate full of small children reciting some kind of story. "I see you have things firmly in hand. Where's young Silvius? He was trying to get on top of things a while back."

"He's still here—I have him dealing with the embassies. He's remarkably patient with the red tape."

"You never could stand that nonsense."

Tactus laughed. "Look who's talking. You never could either."

"Guilty as charged," Garrus admitted.

"Only now you're on an Alliance ship."

"And you're organizing refugees."

Tactus shook his head. "War plays hell with the best of intentions doesn't it? What's it like, working with a human?"

"Best decision I ever made."

"Hm. I got a message from the doctor on the _Normandy_ that they want to trade—our combat-grade medical supplies for their surplus." Tactus gave Garrus a long look. "Everyone knows the Alliance is out for itself first and only cares about sharing if the trade benefits them. No deal. There are too many desperate people down here for me to let anyone take advantage of them."

"Look, you're not wrong about a lot of the Alliance, but Shepard's not like that—and Dr. Chakwas definitely isn't. She sees an opportunity for a mutually beneficial trade, that's all."

Tactus appeared to be considering Garrus's assurance. "As I'm sure you're aware, trust is a hard thing to come by these days. And our military supplies are worth a lot more than the basic meds your doctor offered."

Garrus took a step toward his old friend. "I can only imagine what you and everyone here have been through. I was on Palaven, and I saw how things went down there, and I know that story is repeated a hundredfold down here. But I'm telling you that the supplies we have can help, and our people need every edge we can get. Your meds will absolutely make a difference. We're facing down Reaper forces every time we touch down on a planet—and we're doing it while trying to build alliances between everyone's fleets so we have half a chance to face the Reapers once and for all with enough firepower to get the job done. This is not the time for suspicion or mistrust."

Turning around, Tactus surveyed the overflowing ward, the homeless of the galaxy. He sighed. "With our day-to-day worries, it's easy to forget that other people are out there fighting to give us homes to go back to. But you're right, we're all in this together." He clapped Garrus on the shoulder. "I'll have my people contact yours and make the trade."

"Thank you, Tactus. Good luck."

"Same to you, Vakarian."

On his way down from the ward, his elevator stopped and Commander Bailey got on. "Garrus. I heard the _Normandy_ was in port."

"Got in this morning. I have to say, I'm impressed. You've got the place back up and running a lot faster than I thought you could."

"We've patched the internal security breaches, but we're dangerously low on manpower. There's a lot of praying, and a lot of crying, going on behind closed doors," Bailey admitted. "If Cerberus could come so close to taking over here, anything can happen, folks seem to think. And the refugees just keep coming as world after world falls to the Reapers. They're saying this is the war to end all wars."

"That could be a good thing," Garrus offered, "if it means once we win this one people have had their fill of killing each other for a generation or two."

"That's optimistic of you." Bailey shifted his stance, wincing, his hand automatically going to his side.

Garrus looked at him with concern. "Shouldn't you be in the hospital?"

Bailey grunted, taking his hand quickly away from his side. "It's probably the worst I've ever been hurt—but if I'm breathing, I'm working."

"When the war's over, you deserve a long vacation."

Smiling, Bailey said, "Don't we all?" Then the smile faded. "I was supposed to take a vacation—first one in years—but then I got promoted, and, well, you know how it is. I was going to see my kids on Earth, tell my ex-wife a few things I should have said a long time ago. Now—"

"They still on Earth?"

"I hope so. Somewhere. But … with the news what it is, it's harder and harder to hope."

"I know what you mean. My father and my sister are on Palaven still, or they were. I've had no news in … too long."

"Sorry to hear that. I hope you find them."

"I hope you find your family."

As the elevator slid to a stop, Bailey looked at Garrus with weary eyes. "One thing I can tell you, if I ever get another chance to take time off and go see my family—I'm going to take it. Life's too short to miss it while you're working."

"Good point," Garrus agreed. "Very good point."


	69. The Only Thing That Mattered

_Thank you for reading!_

* * *

Garrus waited near the car he had reserved, his heart pounding. Why he should be so nervous, he couldn't have said. After all, they were an established couple by now, weren't they? But he had never done something like this before, set up a romantic … date, he guessed the term was. At least, not with someone who mattered as much as Shepard. And this was—this was personal. He was showing her something of himself that he had never shown anyone else.

It didn't help that she was late. Not that he was surprised—they had both had full calendars today. With so many refugees on the Citadel, traffic was heavier, making it harder to get where you were going. Or so he told himself as the minutes ticked by and no Shepard appeared.

He was about to ping her omni-tool when he saw her, hurrying along as best she could but stuck behind a knot of slow-moving hanar and not wanting to be rude and push through their trailing tentacles. Would that set off an intergalactic incident? Garrus wondered.

At last Shepard came up to him, her cheeks pink from her jog across the Citadel and from embarrassment. "I'm so sorry. I meant to be here on time, but then I got caught talking in Purgatory, and then there were—" She looked around. "All these people, Garrus. I just want to end this war so they can all go home."

He did, too, but that wasn't what today was about. "And I just want to take your mind off it all, if only for an hour or two."

She smiled, although the shadows were still there in her eyes. "That sounds nice. What did you have in mind? Purgatory seemed relatively Reaper free."

"Oh, I scoped it out earlier. But then I thought—if this was my last day alive, here with you, I'd actually like to remember it."

Zia's eyes warmed with affection as she stepped closer to him. "Me, too. So what's the plan?"

"I had an idea. Let me show you."

"I'm intrigued."

He opened the car door. "And I'm driving. I'd like to get there in one piece, without spending half the day trying to drive up a mountain."

"That was one time!" she protested, but she let him help her into the car on the passenger side anyway, relaxing against the seat.

Garrus got in as well, piloting the car out of its docking port and into Citadel traffic. It took him a few moments to remember how this went, and to navigate the now much heavier traffic patterns, but at last he settled into the stream of cars.

Zia chuckled. "It's kind of nice watching someone else fight with the controls. Cortez and Joker make it look so easy."

"Hey. This is easy!"

"Of course it is. So, where are we going, anyway?"

He glanced at her, feeling deliciously naughty. "Somewhere we're not supposed to."

"Now you're talking."

"Ever have that one thing you've always wanted to do before you died, Shepard?"

She laughed, low and sexy. "I'm looking at him."

Well, that was flattering. "Still trying to make me blush, huh?"

"Until it works. So what's your one thing?"

He looked through the stream of traffic at their destination, rising shining and pristine high above the lake. "The whole time I worked at C-Sec, I'd stare up at the top of the Presidium and say to myself, 'I want to go up there.' But I never did. There were 137 regulations telling me I couldn't."

"So you got them changed?"

Garrus laughed. "I thought you knew me better than that. Fight through all that red tape? No, thank you. No, now I just don't give a damn."

"That does sound like you," Zia admitted.

He piloted the car out of traffic and up, up, up, hoping no one noticed. He had suggested to Bailey that this particular car was Commander Shepard's and no one should pay too much attention to it, but you never knew when someone from C-Sec would decide to get over-eager about collaring rule-breakers. Fortunately, despite the late hour, there was still plenty of light. Garrus didn't know if it was safety or the knowledge that the lake and the Presidium looked better in daylight, but the light was only dimmed a few degrees for night-time in this area, which was just right for his purposes.

Landing smoothly on top of the Presidium—and hoping Shepard hadn't noticed how nervous he was about the landing—Garrus opened the car door and got out. "I figured it's time we did something stupid just for the hell of it. Might be the last chance we get."

"Us? I doubt that." Shepard got out, too and came toward the edge of the roof.

"I hope you're not bothered by heights."

"Never have been before." She looked out across the lake. "Wow."

Garrus did, too. The view was spectacular. The feeling of finally getting up here despite all the times he had told himself he never would filled him with confidence. And being here with Shepard? Unbelievable. "I know."

"Everything you hoped it would be?"

"And more." But he was no longer looking at the Citadel.

"It's incredible."

"I'd be lying if I said I hadn't hoped it would inspire a certain … mood."

That caught Shepard's attention, and she took her eyes off the view, looking up at him. "What mood would that be, exactly?"

Her voice never failed to set his heart racing when it got low and throaty like it was now—but that wasn't quite the mood he had been going for. "Shepard. I … we … this has been …" He cleared his throat. "This thing between you and I is the best thing that's ever happened to me. But we've never really talked about it. I just wanted … I'm a one-woman turian, it seems. There's no one like you. There never has been, there never will be. I guess what I wanted to know is—are you ready to be a one-turian woman?"

"Garrus," she whispered, reaching up with one small hand to touch his scarred mandible. "The only thing that made leaving Earth bearable was knowing you were out there somewhere."

"I felt the same way. The worst part about the galaxy going to hell would have been never getting to see you again."

"But I'm here now. Exactly where I want to be. I never want to be anywhere else but with you." She put her other hand on the other side of his face and reached up on her tiptoes. "I love you, Garrus Vakarian."

"And I love you, Zia Shepard." It was the strangest feeling, suddenly, that he was finally who and where he had always been meant to be. As if his whole life had been leading him to this moment on the top of the Presidium with this remarkable woman. His love. But it occurred to him that this was as far ahead as he had thought. He didn't know what came next, once you had committed yourselves to one another. "The vids Joker gave me … they never got past this part. I mean, I don't know exactly what to do now."

"They all end the same way, don't they?" Zia tilted her head back, her eyes half-closing. "You grab the girl and kiss her like you mean it."

"That I can do." And he did, wrapping his arms around her waist and bending her over, kissing her with everything he had. Zia's arms stole around his neck as he held her there, suspended high above the Citadel, and kissed her like it was the only thing that mattered in the galaxy. Maybe it was. All over the galaxy, maybe other people were kissing their lovers like this. He hoped so.

At last he ended the kiss and Zia's eyes fluttered open. "Who needs vids when you have natural talent?"

"Not this guy." He nuzzled her cheek and the side of her neck.

"Garrus."

"Mm?"

"Not that I don't appreciate the mood, but … we are out in the open in the middle of the Citadel. I don't really want to see this on any news vids—or any other kind of vids, for that matter."

"Good point," he admitted reluctantly, letting her go with a final kiss.

"Should we—go elsewhere?"

"Not quite yet. First, there's something else I wanted to do." Leaving her there, he went to the car and withdrew the sniper rifle he had brought along. "I think the galaxy needs to know, once and for all—who's the better shot?" He handed it to her. "Not saying you don't know how to handle a gun, of course … just saying some of us know how to make it dance."

Zia raised the gun, checking it over carefully. "There are a few people in the galaxy who have seen me in action, you know, Garrus. They seemed pretty impressed."

"Yeah, well, I've actually seen you dance, Shepard." He coughed for effect. "No comment."

"Maybe you'll just have to teach me."

"Like I taught you how to shoot?"

She narrowed her eyes at him. "All right, Vakarian. You're going down."

He readied the target he had brought along, giving her a sidelong glance. "Don't worry. I loaded it with practice slugs for when you miss." He tossed the target out into the air, high above the traffic going by.

Shepard sighted and pulled the trigger, and the target exploded.

Well, he hadn't expected to win on the first round.

"That was an easy one, just to build up your confidence."

"Right." She handed the gun back.

Garrus picked up another target and gave it to her. "Long range, I wrote the book. Nobody alive can do this, not even Commander Shepard. Give me a tough one."

"Okay." She readied the target, sighting with one arm, then threw. It was a good throw, Garrus admitted, narrowing in on the target through his visor. But not quite good enough. He squeezed the trigger, knowing it would hit even before the bullet had left the barrel.

"I said a tough one," he told her smugly.

"Fine. Step aside." She took the gun back, readying her stance while he picked up another target.

He put everything he had into the throw, and had the satisfaction of watching the target fall untouched as Shepard's shot blasted off into nowhere. Raising his arms into the air, he said triumphantly, "I'm Garrus Vakarian, and this is my favorite spot on the Citadel."

Shepard cleared her throat. "It's, uh, windy up here."

"There, there." He put his arm around her shoulders. "It's okay. I know there are other things you're good at."

"You mean, like busting insubordinate crewmembers?"

He chuckled. "If that's what you want to call it."

Zia looked up at him, her eyes gleaming wickedly. "All right, Vakarian, you've had your fun. Now it's my turn."

"What did you have in mind?"

"You'll see. And this time, I'm driving."

"Well, galaxy, it was nice knowing you."


	70. Just Theirs

_Thank you for reading!_

* * *

"Shepard, where are we going?" Garrus asked when he could get his breath back. The car had done some things that should have been impossible as Shepard wove in and out of traffic and flew through hallways and generally ignored the laws of both the Citadel in specific and physics in general. He was briefly amused by the idea of some traffic cop pulling the car over and having to deal with a pissed-off Spectre before he grabbed for the door handle again and hung on for dear life, trying to decide if he felt safer with his eyes closed or open.

The glimpses he had of the outside world weren't anywhere he'd expected to go, however. They were heading into a residential section of the Citadel, and a fairly posh one at that.

"That's for me to know and you—" There was a pause while she negotiated a tricky turn. "To find out."

"Am I going to live that long?"

"Not if you keep insulting my driving."

At last she pulled up in the valet parking area of a block of apartments, getting out and tossing the keys to the valet. "An extra fifty credits for you if you can arrange to have this returned to the rental place," she told him.

"Of course, Commander. Welcome back."

"Welcome back?" Garrus asked her, trying to conceal his relief at being back on solid ground again. "Did you come by earlier and rent us a place for the night?" That sounded so romantic. He was touched.

"I'd like to say yes, but it's a little more complicated than that. And … it's not just for the night." Shepard led him to the elevator, punching in a floor number. "I'll explain everything, I promise."

At the end of a long hallway, she keyed in her personal code on the door of an apartment, opened it, and stood aside to let Garrus walk inside.

There was a long moment of silence while he took it all in. The place was huge. From the entrance, he could see a high-ceilinged living room with a fireplace and a grand piano, a large and well-appointed kitchen, stairs leading up to a second floor, a hallway leading off to his left, and all of it tastefully furnished and embellished with costly pieces of art.

"Wow."

"I know, right?"

"Zia, this place must have cost a fortune."

"Honestly, I didn't ask." At his look of confusion, she relented and explained. "It's Admiral Anderson's apartment, or it was. He … well, he said he wants to retire on Earth now, and I'm trying to take him at his word and not believe that what he meant was that he would never live to come back to it. At any rate—he gave it to me."

"And you accepted it?"

"I didn't think I should, but he said it would set his mind at ease, and … I've never had a home, Garrus. Growing up, it was cabins on Alliance cruisers, different ones all the time, and the same once I got through the academy. This is … this is the first time I've ever thought I could see a future where I could settle down and just—live."

Garrus put a hand gently on her shoulder. "I didn't mean to sound critical. I'm glad you accepted it. I was just surprised."

She smiled up at him. "I was, too."

"Did you scope the whole place out earlier?"

"I did. You want the tour?"

Standing there with her in this space that was just theirs, Garrus found he could wait to see most of the place. "Where's the bedroom?"

Her smile deepened, her eyes darkening in response to the huskiness in his voice. "Upstairs."

"Lead me to it."

Zia went ahead of him, unfastening her jacket as she climbed the steps. At the top of the stairs he saw the bedroom, and another sitting area with a hallway leading off to the side.

"How many bedrooms does this place have?"

"Why? You want to try them all out tonight?"

"And maybe the couches, too."

"I have something better than a couch. Or a bed." She led him through the bedroom and into the bathroom, where a large whirlpool tub bubbled, steam rising from it.

"Well, that does have possibilities."

"Doesn't it?" Shepard was halfway out of her clothes by now, sliding her panties off and unfastening her bra, and she stepped gingerly into the bubbling water, sighing in pleasure as she relaxed completely into it, the bubbles caressing her wet skin. "This feels amazing."

"Wait until I get in there, I'll show you amazing."

"Promises, promises." She leaned her head back against the side of the tub, watching as he stripped off his own clothes and got in next to her.

The hot water surging around him soothed sore muscles he didn't know he had, and the bubbles tickled in all the right places … and Zia's wet skin tasted divine. She closed her eyes and sighed happily as he explored her with his hands and mouth, his tongue licking droplets of water off every inch of her skin that was exposed. Beneath the water, her legs parted, wrapping around his hips, bringing their bodies into intimate contact, and Garrus groaned as she moved back and forth against him.

"Zia. I can't—if you keep doing that, I—"

"Good." She clung to him, and he slid inside her, unable to hold back.

The weightlessness of the water somehow heightened the pleasure, and it wasn't long before they were crying out into each other's mouths.

When he thought he had the strength, Garrus lifted her out of the water, toweling her off gently before carrying her to the bed and starting it all over again.


	71. Normalcy

_Thank you for reading!_

* * *

"Garrus."

He was reluctant to open his eyes, so sleepy and comfortable. "Mm?"

"I'm hungry."

The rumble of Garrus's stomach made further reply unnecessary. "I doubt there's anything in the kitchen, unless you found time to restock today."

"Sorry, that didn't make my to-do list. Seems unnecessary anyway, since we can't stay long this time."

"So what are we going to do about it?"

"You have a favorite restaurant?"

"I thought you did. You gave enough of them your 'this is my favorite restaurant on the Citadel' speech."

She smiled sheepishly. "They asked."

"And you can't say no." He chuckled and opened his eyes, accepting that he wasn't getting any sleep for a while, at least.

Reaching for his omni-tool, he called up a list of takeout places near the apartment building, narrowing the search by places that served both dextro and levo foods, and they fought a little about where to order from. Garrus had to kiss her into agreement with his choice, and he was so tempted to forget the food and have his fill of her temptingly soft skin and sweet mouth, but his stomach growled loudly in the midst of their play and made Shepard's case for her. She was laughing at him as he punched in their order, and he wished he could have recorded these last few moments, the greatest normalcy they'd ever shared together, to play back over and over again until this was their life every day.

Sadly, they had to get dressed in order to open the door for the delivery person, who turned out to be a hanar, boxes dangling off the ends of several of its tentacles.

"This one thanks you for your generosity," it said, appreciating the hefty tip Shepard added to the overall total, and it was gone down the hall, leaving Garrus and Shepard to spread the food out on the counter in the den and load up their plates.

"So what did you do today?" he asked her.

Zia sighed. "So many things. Council, nearly got my head shot off by that batarian from Terra Nova, remember him? I ended up talking him into joining the fight against the Reapers, with as many of his people as he could round up."

"Of course you did."

"Then Kasumi and I helped someone from C-Sec find a hanar diplomat who was working with the 'Enkindlers'—i.e., the Collectors. I ran into Javik near the embassies. He couldn't believe we really allowed other species to have opinions."

Garrus shook his head. "Poor Liara. She so wanted the Protheans to be artists and philosophers."

"Maybe he would have been, had he been born at a different time. In his time, they needed fighters, so that's what he became. He said that, said he almost wished he could be what Liara wanted him to be." She paused, looking thoughtful. "It was really moving for him to be on the Citadel, to see it for himself. It had always been a myth to him, one he hardly believed in. One of the hanar saw him there, and recognized him for what he is, and we drew a bit of a crowd. Javik was telling them all how the Reapers were going to win, and there was no hope."

"I bet that went over well."

Zia cleared her throat. "I convinced him to change the thrust of the message, to have the last voice of the Protheans speak words of power and dominance over the Reapers rather than words of defeat. That went better."

"Poor Javik. I can't imagine."

"No. I spoke to Liara, too. She's taking on so much, what with her work and the Crucible. I wish she could rest, but she's right—there really isn't time for that. Not yet."

Zia showed signs of letting the cares of war settle on her shoulders again, so Garrus hastened to ask if she had run into anyone else in the course of her day.

"Everyone! I'm glad to see them all taking advantage of the chance for some R&R." She smiled. "I talked Joker into dancing with EDI. I told him everything was a risk—but the worst risk was not taking the moments you can when you have them."

Garrus reached out and held her hand. "I couldn't agree more."

"While Joker and EDI were dancing, of course I had to keep an eye on them, so I let Jack and Cortez drag me onto the dance floor, too."

"Were there any injuries?"

She playfully brandished a small fist. "Only the busted jaw of the smart-mouthed turian."

He chuckled. "Jack seems happy with those kids she's teaching. Who would've thought?" Shepard gave him a sideways glance, and he nodded. "All right, you did. How's Cortez? Feeling better?"

"He was making eyes at all the hot guys, so I think he's looking toward the future."

"I'm glad. Cortez is a good guy. I'm sure his husband would rather see him happy."

"Speaking of people we'd rather see happy … I had lunch with Kaidan."

"Yeah?" Garrus didn't like the immediate leap of jealousy in his veins any more than she did, and he fought it down. "How's he?"

"Glad to be back on the _Normandy_. Looking for a place in the galaxy, thinks this is it for now. I'm glad to have him back, too."

"So am I," Garrus assured her. "He's a good man to have at your back. Hey, you run into Vega?"

"I did. Did you see what he was doing?"

"Yeah, he and Jack are going to have to fight over who has more tattoos soon."

"He wanted me to get one." Shepard cast him an impish look. "I thought about it."

"Really. Where?"

"Aren't you worried about what?"

"Not at all. I'm sure it would say 'Garrus Vakarian' in big, bold letters."

"You wish, big guy."

"Come on, let me see." He got to his feet, peeling her shirt off her shoulders. "There must be one somewhere on here."

"You think I should have one?"

"And mar this beautiful skin? Never." He bent to kiss her shoulder.

"You really like my weird human skin, huh?"

"Let me show you how much."


	72. Looking for Answers

_Thank you for reading! Be well!_

* * *

In the early hours of the morning, not long before the cares of the war and the ship and the galaxy were going to sweep Zia away from this little cocoon of normalcy they'd found, Garrus lay watching her sleep. It was rare to see her so relaxed, the lines of her face smooth and soft, and he treasured the moment for as long as it lasted.

She woke too soon; he had hoped she could get more rest. But she smiled as she saw him lying there. "Did you sleep?"

"Enough." The bed was strange, and built for humans, so it hadn't been his most restful night. Her bed on the ship was built for humans as well, but it was also built for utility, which made it slightly more comfortable for his purposes.

"We should get some turian furniture for this place."

"That would be nice."

"I'll put it on the top of the to-do list if we ever have some time off."

"I don't know when that will be. My commander's a hardass."

Shepard laughed. "That's not what you called me yesterday."

"Yesterday you weren't making me go back to work." He looked around the room. "It would be a shame to mess with Anderson's décor."

"It's not Anderson's, though, not anymore. It's ours. Garrus, I want—I want this to be a real home, someplace we can land. If that's okay with you."

Garrus hadn't really given the idea of what they would do after the war much thought. He didn't want to end up on Palaven, he knew that, and Zia had never expressed much interest in living on Earth, and she was right, a person should have a place that wasn't on a starship. He'd kept a very spartan apartment when he worked with C-Sec, but this was different. This was theirs. "It's more than okay with me."

"It's … a lot of place for two people, though," Zia said, somewhat hesitantly.

"I suppose." He looked down at her sharply, wondering where she was going with this.

"I didn't tell you, but I ran into Jacob yesterday while I was checking in at the hospital. Thank you for taking care of that supply transfer, by the way."

"My pleasure. What was Jacob up to?"

"He was there with his girlfriend. She's … she's pregnant." Zia sat up, her big brown eyes wide and serious. "We've never talked about this."

"No."

"And we can't have children together."

"No. But—I've been giving it some thought. One of the worst parts of this war is watching the kids react. I mean, if they're lucky, they've grown up thinking the galaxy is basically a decent place. Some rough spots here and there, but for the most part, life makes sense. Now they find out it was all a lie, and they wake up to see these things in the dark that have just been lying in wait, coming to destroy everyone and everything they ever cared about. If they survive, there'll be a hell of a lot of pissed off orphans looking for answers." He looked at Zia, wanting her to understand. "It seems to me that we might be that answer for a couple of them. Maybe a few."

Zia's eyes had filled with tears. "You are a hell of a person, Garrus Vakarian. You pretend to be all tough and logical, and all the time you have this soft, tender heart that you never let anyone see."

"Except you."

"Except me. And I love you for it." She took his hand and held it in both of hers. "I think those extra bedrooms would be just about perfect for some orphans looking for answers. I hope some day we'll have answers to give them."

"Me, too." Garrus pulled her close, holding her there, not wanting to let her go. For this moment she was his, just his, and she was safe, and knowing what lay ahead of them, he didn't know how much longer that would be true. All this talk about the future, and children, just made it that much harder to go back out there.

"Garrus." Zia took his head in her hands and kissed him softly. "It's not just us. We're fighting for all the children who aren't orphans yet, so that maybe they never have to be. For all the people who are bringing new life into the world, all the couples holding each other tonight and not wanting to lose what they have."

"I know. It's just …"

She wrapped her arms around him, climbing into his lap to get closer still. "I don't want to lose you, either. And it's entirely possible we'll come out of this on the other end. We have before. Saren, Sovereign, the Omega 4, the Collector base—"

"How many times can we do the impossible?"

"Once more," she said softly, and kissed him again. "Once more, and one more after that, and one more after that, until it's done and we can come home and raise our brood of adopted kids and quarrel and make up like everyone else."

"You paint such enchanting pictures of normalcy."

'What do I know? I've never lived a normal life."

"And it shows," he told her. "I should probably meet your mother, you know."

"Some day. After I meet your father and your sister."

Garrus clung to her, hoping that day would, could, come. Someday.

With another kiss, this one regretful, Zia climbed off him. "Duty calls, Vakarian."

"Right behind you, Shepard."


End file.
